The Lonely Once and Future King
by medchan
Summary: A second look at the last episode of Merlin, Season 4. What would have happened if Arthur had stumbled across Merlin and the dragon?
1. Banishment - 1

CAMELOT CAST:

Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot

Guinevere Pendragon, Queen of Camelot

Morgana, exiled warlock

Gaius, Physician to the King

Sebelin, Gaius's new assistant _(OC)_

* * *

MERCIA CAST: _(note, all of these are OCs)_

Lawrence Azalie, King of Mercia

Alastair Azalie, Crown Prince of Mercia

Sebastian Azalie, Prince of Mercia

Clarence Deshiki, Court Jester

Merlin, exiled warlock

* * *

Author's Note: Since he isn't shown _actually sleeping_ when Merlin summons the dragon, I imagine it's actually highly possible the Arthur could have stumbled across that scene. Besides, Merlin running through the forest, yelling for the dragon in his own tongue? How does that _not_ wake him up or get some attention? Seriously.

A few notes for you who like to correct people. Yes, I know full well that Mercia already has a king, who is shown in the first season, episode four, The Poisoned Chalice. However, I don't care. If you want to pretend his kingdom was taken over to make yourself feel better, go ahead. As for Sebelin, well, Gaius will need some help after Merlin's gone. You'll get a brief glimpse at the new cast at the end of the chapter but that's about it. You'll have to wait until tomorrow, since this chapter was mostly written out and finishing it was easy. Next chapter should be up soon, and then you'll get a good look at our new heroes, as well as the occasional glimpse of Arthur missing his old friend. If you feel I'm really OOC with Merlin or Arthur, please feel free to tell me. I'll try to show them better. Also, this will be one of the only times I portray the FRIENDSHIP of Arthur and Merlin. Merlin will later be paired with an OC, not Arthur, so sorry all you yaoi/gay fans. Try reading one of my other Merlin fics, they will definitely show that. ;) In fact, I'll post one right after this just for you, yaoi/gay fans. Now, please enjoy!

_It occurred to me, rereading this, that I rather rushed the first publication. I'm reediting it, adding a bit more, and clearing up the issue with Alistair and Sebastian._

* * *

"The fate of Camelot rests in your hands, young warlock. For you, and you alone, can restore the king's faith."

Arthur stared at the dragon, which spoke with such ease to his servant. He'd noticed Merlin sneaking off, despite it being his turn to keep watch. Worried he was doing something stupid and dangerous again; for _his_ sake, Arthur had followed him. He'd never seen Merlin run like this, though. He ran fast, faster than he'd ever let on that he could run and he shouted out strange words that made _his_ heart tremble as he ran. What had rooted Arthur to the spot, however, was the sight of Merlin before this _beast_. He stood before it with little fear, as though he were a king asking an advisor for council. Moreover, this giant creature spoke to him, called him _'warlock' _as if it was talking to an old friend. Had Merlin betrayed him? Was he, too, seeking to take over his throne?

"How?" Merlin asked the dragon.

"You must make him believe that he can become king once more."

Become king? What were they talking about? Was Merlin really after his throne? Was Merlin really looking to overthrow him? Arthur couldn't think straight anymore. Only bits and pieces of the conversation were registering in his brain, so flabbergasted was he by the sight of his most trusted friend, yes _friend_, talking to a magical creature. Hadn't they _just_ had a conversation about how he was constantly being betrayed? Yet Merlin had the _gal_ to sit there and try to _comfort_ him, all the while he was doing the same. Grief struck at his heart, causing it physical pain. Merlin continued to stand before the beast, unaware of anything that was going on or any who might be watching him.

"I wish I could be of more help, Merlin."

So the dragon knew his name. His servant was on terms with it. This wasn't just some huge mistake. And, on closer look, Arthur was sure this was the dragon that had attacked Camelot. The dragon Merlin had sworn he killed. Had this creature attacked his home under Merlin's orders? Would it attack his kingdom again?

"No. I know how." Merlin smiled up at the dragon. His next words sent terror to Arthur's heart, though. "The people of Camelot. Do you know where they're hiding?"

"I am a dragon. I can cover many leagues in the blink of an eye. They shouldn't be too hard to find."

"Then we have no time to loose."

Arthur couldn't figure out what they were planning. He'd trusted Merlin. He'd trusted him just as he trusted Morgana, Agravaine. He'd trusted and been betrayed again. Heart heavy, he slunk back to the camp for some sleep. In the morning, he would deal with this. In the morning, he would expose Merlin and banish him, _even if it cost him everything to do so_. He'd held Merlin dear to his heart, as a beloved friend and sometimes councilor. He didn't want to loose him. His father's words and teachings rang in his ears, however, clouding his thoughts. Magic was not to be trusted. Sorcerers were evil. Merlin was not to be trusted. He was a warlock, one who chose to use magic. Therefore, Merlin must be evil. He winced at the thought but he knew his father would be proud of him for what he must now do. He must banish Merlin, banish him or… Or follow in his father's footsteps.

The next morning, however, he was awakened by a shake from Merlin. He smiled at him as a friend would smile and beckoned him to follow. "Come on, there's something I need to show you."

Had he come to kill him? No, if Merlin truly wanted to kill him he could do it any time. No one would be the wiser. In fact, it was a small wonder that he had not done so before. Why _hadn't_ he done so before, come to think of it? He could easily do it, dispose of him, dispose of his trusted knights; if he had enough magic to control a dragon, something not even Morgana could do, surely he could kill him and take over his throne. Perhaps his throne was not what he wanted after all. Hope swelled in his heart at that thought, but he tried to crush it. If so, then what did he want? He listened to Merlin speak, making inane comments. But Merlin was obstinate, he told him to listen to what he had to say. Unable to get a clear picture of Merlin, even now, Arthur obeyed and lapsed into silence.

Merlin told him the story of his ancestor but he added a part that Arthur had never heard about. He told him about a part including a sword in a stone. How stupid did he think he was? But to his surprise, despite his protests, Merlin produced an _actual_ sword in a stone. Even more surprising was that his people were coming toward it. Arthur immediately blanched, not feeling up to the task. This was foolishness. Perhaps Merlin wanted him to fail; so all these people could laugh at him and he could step in and lay claim to his throne.

_"What the hell are you playing at?"_

_"I'm proving that you are they're leader and they're king."_

_"That sword is stuck fast in solid stone."_

_"And you're going to pull it out."_

_"Merlin, it's impossible."_

_"Arthur, you're the true king of Camelot."_

_"You want me to look like a fool?"_

_"No, I'm going to make you see that Tristan's wrong. You aren't just anyone; you are special. You, and you alone can draw out that sword."_

The conviction in his voice coupled with the words he'd heard the dragon speak to him convinced Arthur that Merlin was serious. "You better be right about this." He told him. Fearfully, he approached the stone. There was no way he could do this. He tried and failed.

"You have to believe, Arthur." Merlin told him.

He kept trying, willing himself to believe even as he doubted.

"You are destined to be Albion's greatest king."

He stepped away from the stone and took a breath.

"Nothing, not even this stone, can stand in your way."

Merlin's words, despite knowing his betrayal, managed to give Arthur courage. Hope. Confidence. He believed in him, in his words. Despite knowing everything, he believed.

"Have faith."

He had faith; he had faith in Merlin. He had faith in his words. He had faith in himself. And he pulled the sword from the stone. What he had believed was impossible, his faith being restored in himself and his belief that he could be king returned, had happened. All this was thanks to this sword and stone. He wondered how Merlin had known about this but dismissed the notion he set it up for him. Merlin was still a warlock, despite all. He probably really had missed that bit of the history lesson. After all, he hated history that didn't have to do with battles for glory and justice. Anchored in his faith, he kept a firm grasp on his new sword. With this, he felt he just might be able to win against Morgana and her army.

* * *

The battle won, all Arthur's efforts turned to righting the kingdom. He refused to accept that the reason he was so focused on this might be because he didn't want to deal with the issue of magic. A month passed before Arthur finally was ready to address the issue of Merlin having magic. It wasn't as if he was dreading doing this or anything. He was king. He didn't dread it at all; he was above that. It's just; first, he really _did_ have to put the kingdom back in order. The court was a mess, the nobles weren't sure whom their allegiance belonged to anymore, and then there was the matter of having made Gwen his queen. Considering how quickly he'd put the ceremony together, without giving the nobles and the court a chance to air and reconcile any reservations about the union, he'd been forced to deal with the grief in the aftermath. It turned out, it was ten times worse than he expected. He was still unraveling that mess but it was nearly put to rest. Another month or two and even the still grumbling nobles would have to let it go.

In other matters, Tristan decided to stay for a bit, which Arthur would never admit pleased him. He refused to become a knight, of course. He said it was drab and boring and way too noble for the likes of him. He was quite suited with his way of life, thank you very much, although he promised not to smuggle in Arthur's kingdom anymore. Not that Arthur believed him for an instant but eh, he was glad the man seemed to be recovering. He spent much time joking and drinking with Gwaine and oddly enough, in quiet conversation with Merlin. His treacherous servant seemed to calm the otherwise agitated man.

All of Camelot seemed to be recovering nicely and in the middle of it all was Merlin. Annoying, exasperating Merlin. Sometimes Arthur wished he had dreamed the whole incident up. After all, how could weak, senseless Merlin be a warlock? Heck, he couldn't keep a secret to himself if his life depended on it! No, Merlin couldn't be a warlock. He tried to convince himself yet he knew that it wasn't true. Merlin went everywhere with him. He was there in the moments when everything just seemed to turn around and go _right_ for Arthur. Besides which, there were all the oddities he'd heard but ignored up until now. He had heard the complaints from the outside villages of Camelot, that there were strange noises that occasionally came from the clearings in the hills. No doubt they were similar to those sounds Merlin had made that fateful night when Arthur saw him summoning the dragon. He couldn't understand why though. The dragon hadn't attacked Camelot. To his knowledge, it hadn't attacked any other kingdom either. He was positive he would have gotten a report if a dragon were seen attacking a kingdom. Why, then, was Merlin summoning the dragon? And then there were the incidents when, before, Merlin had been accused of sorcery. He'd scoffed at the time, saying it was rubbish, but clearly there had been some truth to it. In fact, Merlin himself had once admitted to sorcery! Although Arthur had played it off at the time as a delusion of love for his new wife, now he knew he'd been telling the truth.

There were other things to consider. After getting back, he'd secretly checked around. He'd had an artist sketch Merlin, demanding the boy sit still under the pretense of some mission only to pretend he hated the sketch and tell the man he changed his mind. He paid him, whispering to return with the sketch and give it to one of his knights, Sir Leonardo. He then had Sir Leonardo ask as discreetly as he could around the taverns if Merlin had been there. He'd been hoping someone would recognize him but none did. His suspicion confirmed; that meant Merlin had been lying to him. He didn't bother to take into consideration that Gaius might have been lying to him as well. No, Merlin probably told Gaius a lie to tell him. So if Merlin didn't frequent the tavern, where was he always wandering off to all the time? The more he considered the situation, the more he came to one conclusion. He couldn't trust Merlin anymore. Merlin had betrayed him and there were consequences that came with that. No matter how much he wished it wasn't so, no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, it came down to one thing. Merlin was a sorcerer, a warlock and a practitioner of magic. He couldn't be trusted and he had to be punished. Perhaps, just perhaps, if he brought it out into the open, he would finally get the answers he was looking for. Answers, he was discovering, he desperately needed. He wouldn't bring the matter to court, however. No he would address it in front of his most trusted knights. This way, he would have more freedom to deal with Merlin as he saw fit, without the court trying to interfere as they had been since he became king. And this way, he might get some honest answers. He had a feeling that Merlin wouldn't admit to anything in court, that he would merely take his sentence in silence. He was more open and honest with Arthur and the knights away from the castle. He chuckled bitterly to himself. Open and honest? Who was he kidding. No matter what he might have thought, Merlin was nothing more than a _liar_.

* * *

"I've summoned you all here for one purpose." Arthur announced, looking around when the knights had gathered in the square. He looked at each of their faces. Faces he knew and trusted. He wondered if any of them had betrayed him? No, he gave himself a mental shake. Knowing Merlin's betrayal was just messing with his head. He couldn't begin to suspect others, not without proof. Once this was cleared up, everything would return to normal. He wouldn't be so suspicious over everyone anymore; he wouldn't be constantly tense or nervous. He wouldn't jump every time someone entered the room. Not that he jumped, of course. He would just glance at them suspiciously. No one seemed to notice as of yet but he couldn't let this mess with his mind anymore. He glanced sagaciously at Merlin, who appeared oblivious as always. How could he not guess that Arthur knew? Or was he that confident that he could overwhelm both Arthur and his knights? He knew he was drawing attention so he motioned for them to follow him and began leading them to the lower town. He didn't bother to lower his voice, for he didn't want them crowding him and he honestly didn't care who overheard what he was going to say. "There is a yet another traitor. One I have only just found."

The knights all looked at each other in confusion and Merlin looked sharply at Arthur, clearly confused by this sudden news. So he hadn't known, hadn't even guessed that Arthur knew. Well, he would keep him guessing then. It was well-deserved payback for not telling him up front about his magic. He knew he was behaving a bit like a spiteful kid and that shaming Merlin in front of everyone would do no good but he was sure it would make him feel better. In the long run, that was what counted, right? His peace of mind would return and he could gloat a little over this moment. Ignoring Merlin's probing gaze, he nodded. "Yes, we have yet another traitor in our midst."

"Do you know who, Sire?" Sir Leon was instantly alert. Sir Leon, Arthur's most trusted knight. Yes, he would lay down his life for him in a moment, without hesitation. He would never betray him. Would he? He would have said the same about Merlin before this incident. Merlin, who seemed so willing to sacrifice everything for him.

"I have some idea. In fact, I believe they are quite close to me in the castle."

"Is it a noble?" Sir Gwaine, ever distrustful of the nobles despite being born of noble blood, supplied his guess. Arthur glanced at him. He wondered how his knight, who swore an oath to protect him and lay down his life for him, would take the news. He often said that he considered Merlin his first and best friend. Not well then. Still, he would have to deal with that fall out. It was a task he wasn't looking forward to, but he had no doubt that Gwaine would remain by his side. Right?

He shook his head. "No. All the nobles appear to be loyal to me, although I suppose we should question them later to be sure." Who knows whom Merlin could have possible corrupted with his magic. Despite himself and the seriousness of the situation, he almost snorted. Merlin, _corrupting_ people? What an absurd thought. He couldn't even begin to think of Merlin trying to corrupt people. He was far too clumsy; he would probably end up casting the wrong spell. He must be on the edge of hysteria if he felt like laughing. He would have to see Gaius later on to make sure. Instantly, the hysteria left him. Gaius would take the news of Merlin's betrayal, and his punishment, badly. Hopefully it wouldn't cost the physician's health too badly.

"No, it's not a noble." He reiterated.

"Then who? Surely you do not suspect one of the knights. They are all loyal only to you, Sire!" Sir Elyan guessed, objecting to the thought of one of his comrades being traitorous. Sir Elyan, brave and true, loyal to him despite how painful it must have been when he'd banished Gwen. He realized he would be putting him in another painful situation, where he must chose Arthur, his king, and Camelot over his friend. He would surely understand Arthur's reasoning behind his decision, wouldn't he? Hadn't he understood when he banished Gwen?

"It is not one of the knights, I assure you. However, as it is someone close to me, I am biased in the matter. I need your council on what I should do, how I should handle this matter."

"If it's a traitor, you should kill them. Let them hang." Gwaine threw in quickly.

"Traitor to Camelot and its king, beheading isn't too good for them." Elyan said slowly, not particularly blood thirsty but striving to be fair. However, when he imagined someone might be selling secrets, he feared for his king and his sister, the queen. He couldn't let such an offense go lightly, not when it endangered the lives of those he cared about.

"Hanging is a just response for the crime." Sir Leon nodded slowly. A few of the other knights present murmured in agreement.

"Banishment from the kingdom. His picture sketched and sent to all the regions, so that he can never again set foot on land claimed by Camelot." Percival threw his lot in. Arthur listened to all their suggestions before glancing at Merlin again. This time, Merlin caught his eye.

He spoke in a quiet voice. "Run them threw with your sword. A quick death, merciful and just."

Elyan protested. "Why should he be merciful to a traitor, Merlin? They've betrayed him!"

Merlin turned a wise eye on his friend, the knight. "And he is the king." That statement silenced all the knights. "He is our king, he must strive to be merciful and just at all times, whether it be sentencing a traitor to death or rewarding a servant." He grinned cheekily at Arthur, causing his lips to twitch slightly up. Merlin, who occasionally could show himself to be wise, had a point. Yet he didn't wish to kill Merlin. The small smile melted away into a frown.

He turned around to face his knights, not acknowledging Merlin. Not that ignoring Merlin was anything new. He knew it was a common occurrence and he wondered for the first time if that was part of the reason Merlin was able to trick him for so long. Had he just not been paying attention, not cared enough about him? He looked at Sir Leon, his first knight, and thought about how long it had taken him to warm up and truly trust Merlin. Despite his kind heart, he did not view servants as equals to knights and while he had never said anything, he quietly disapproved of Merlin's presence. Would outing Merlin forever set him against the servants he was only just now beginning to show kindness to and look after? Not that he ever raised a hand against them. He was a knight of Camelot and took his position very seriously. He knew that knights were supposed to protect the weak. It dawned on Arthur for the first time, perhaps that might be part of the reason he disapproved for so long on Merlin traveling with them. He considered Merlin weak and wanted to protect him.

He turned his gaze next to Sir Gwaine. Gwaine, the nobleman. He hated his noble blood and there was little love lost between him and Uther, who originally banished him. Yet he had proven himself a worthy knight ten times over. The thing he still valued the most was his friendship with Merlin. True, they hadn't exactly been best pals as of late. Merlin was still a servant and Gwaine had begun to enjoy the perks of being a knight, but he still looked after his first and best friend. In fact, part of the reason he became a knight was because of Merlin. Merlin brought Gwaine into his life, the same way he brought Lancelot and Elyan and later Percival. Gwaine, who he still sparred with and tried to beat; demanding rematch after rematch to settle that dispute over who would have won during that slaver incident. Gwaine, who had recently begun to open up and talk about himself not just to Merlin and Arthur but also to the other knights as well. How would this affect him? Would his loyalty still be to Arthur and Camelot? Or would he choose Merlin, his first friend, over all his new ones?

He looked at Elyan, remembering how it wasn't just Gwen who pushed him to help him but Merlin as well. Merlin's faith in the knight had never shifted, not once. He trusted Elyan even when he'd been enchanted and that faith is what had helped Arthur trust him. He looked at Sir Percival and the few other trusted knights he had brought with him. They all knew Merlin. Sir Percival, who had been brought to them by Sir Lancelot, his most beloved knight. Lancelot, who betrayed him and tried to woo Gwen, only to kill himself to restore his honor. Who would Percival choose? Himself, king and Camelot, or Merlin, whom Lancelot had originally brought him to help aid? He didn't fool himself; Lancelot might have wanted to aid him but he knew that he Lancelot had come because of Merlin, because he asked him for aid and because like everyone else he seemed to meet, Merlin befriend him.

His mind reeled. If it weren't for Merlin, with the exception of Sir Leon who was already a knight, he wouldn't have any of these trusted men as his knights. Merlin was partially responsible for all of them. He noticed Tristan approaching out of the corner of his eye. He gave him a vague nod, wondering if he could convince the man to become a knight. He could use a man like him as a knight. Perhaps Merlin would work some of his magic and–and that was _exactly_ why they were all here, wasn't it? Because Merlin had _magic_. Despite the worried stares he was receiving from his knights as the silence stretched on, he chanced a quick glance at Merlin. Merlin gave him an anxious look but nodded for him to continue, glancing at the knights. Merlin, who always seemed to know the right thing to say at the right time. When he continued to stare, his servant stepped forward and spoke in quiet, rushed tone. _"Sire, the knights are waiting for you to continue. You need to tell them who the traitor is."_

Stunned by hearing those words, the words tumbled out of his lips. "Merlin."

Merlin looked up at him, confusion covering his face, and pulled back slightly. He glanced around and then again at Arthur. "Uh… Yes, Sire?"

The knights appeared equally confused and looked at each other before looking at Merlin. Clearly, they didn't get it. A small voice in the back of his head said, 'good.' It told him to end it there, to not let himself get embroiled in this mess. Outing Merlin like this would do no one any good. Yet the small voice was easily quashed by his misgivings and his sense of betrayal. No, he couldn't let this deception continue. "Merlin. It's Merlin." He said again.

Merlin caught on quickly and shock caused his jaw to drop open as he blinked at Arthur. Slowly, the knights begun to catch on what Arthur was saying.

"What's Merlin?" Gwaine demanded, not getting it. Or rather, refusing to understand Arthur's meaning. Elyan leaned over and whispered in his ear. He paled, his eyebrows scrunching together as barely contained fury erupted inside of him. "You're saying Merlin is the traitor? _Merlin_?" His voice sounded incredulous. "On whose word do you take this farce?"

"My own." His voice was deadly calm, his eyes cooling to a stony look as he continued to stare at Merlin. Merlin said nothing; apparently unable to wrap his obtuse head around the idea Arthur could call him a traitor.

"You idiotic, spoiled little–" Gwaine erupted again, Sir Leon having to restrain him before he could lunge at his king.

"Sir Gwaine." His knight uttered in a warning voice to the irate man. He was coming dangerously close to treason. However, he trained his questioning gaze on his king. "Surely this cannot be, my lord. I have known Merlin since shortly after he arrived. You know him better than anyone! He would never betray you."

"I, I, I wouldn't!" Squeaked the traitor, still in obvious shock. He seemed to be trying to figure out why Arthur thought of him that way. He clearly couldn't fathom that he knew.

"Merlin is the traitor." Conviction rang in voice even as doubt entered his eyes. Was he really doing the right thing? Yet he needed answers. "He has magic."

Merlin's eyes bugged out for an instance. "I, I have what?" He asked weakly.

"You are a sorcerer. You wield magic Merlin. Don't deny it."

"What, what makes you think I have magic?" He didn't even think of denying, yet he knew he should do it immediately.

Arthur sneered at him for the first time, mistrust and betrayal mixing together in his stony eyes to portray the prelude to hate. "I saw you, Merlin."

He wilted, looking suitably guilty. His reluctance to deny it hushed the knights, even Gwaine who was looking at his friend with apprehension and confusion. Merlin didn't look at anyone else, simply watched Arthur, trying to gauge him. "I see…"

"So it's true then? You don't deny it?" Somehow, that surprised Arthur.

"No…" He replied quietly, shaking his head.

"You hid your _'talent' _from me, from all of us, for a very long time." He crossed his arms, wanting answers. The betrayal stung anew and all the more painful, having Merlin admit it. A part of him _wanted_ him to deny it. Perhaps if he had, he could simply have let it go at that. It was an odd dream, a trick in the night sky, _it never really happened._

"I, I didn't want to hide it from you." Merlin protested weakly.

"Oh, no, you just thought that I wasn't worthy of your secret." Arthur scoffed.

Merlin's temper rose slightly, and a spark of anger entered his eyes. "Well, what was I supposed to do, Arthur?"

Arthur opened his mouth but Merlin cut him off, continuing on. "Tell you? Tell _you_, Arthur? The son of Uther Pendragon, who started the great Purge in order to eradicate any and all of my kind?" That stung and Merlin looked like he regretted the words as soon as he said them, looking away and at the ground. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean… You just act like it was _easy_, Arthur."

"Wasn't it easy, Merlin? Wasn't it though?"

"Easy? _Easy_?" Merlin scoffed. "What exactly about it was supposed to be _easy_, Arthur? I walked into this city and the first thing I saw was someone like me, a man I didn't even know, being beheaded for magic. For magic! I was sent here to be protected from such practices and I landed in the worst place, apart from everyone I knew, alone and _scared_ in a new place. On top of that, I was assigned your servant, servant to the son of the man who could simply have me killed for _looking_ at you. I was told I was trash, I was worthless, I was a nobody. I was treated like crap and that was just from the other servants who looked down on a country hick. I had to endure _your_ treatment, your degrading and your mocking, and not react at all, which of course we both know I failed to do. All the while, every day I was wondering if it would be my last, if someone was going to try to kill me, if I would be burned at the stake or beheaded. I couldn't tell anyone my secret and when I noticed Morgana had magic as well, oh yes I noticed _that_ Arthur, I couldn't even _help_ her! I couldn't help her because of your father, and she suffered for it. She was this beautiful pure soul and now she's been twisted into this ugly, hateful thing and it's my fault, my fault for not thinking about her instead of my own pathetic life. I had to watch as your father put others like me to death, stand by your side and pretend not to be effected. I even saved your father's life a couple times! So was it easy, Arthur? Yes, of course, it was a breeze."

"If it was so hard, why didn't you bother telling anyone? You could have told me!"

"Right, when would that be, Arthur?" Merlin shook his head. "When I went back to Ealdor? You condemned my friend for using magic, which, by the way, that was _me_. Yeah. Not the first time my magic saved your life and it wasn't the last time either. So no, I couldn't tell you then. And after that? When? When Morgause was telling you about your mother? No, that turned you against magic. Then when after that? After Morgana tried to use magic to take the thrown from you? When was I supposed to tell you I had magic, Arthur? When exactly? Even now, _even now_ you look at me like I'm some disgusting creature when I'm _exactly the same_ as I was yesterday and the day before, the exact same Merlin as last month!"

"But you're not the same Merlin. You lied. You're a liar, Merlin."

"What was I supposed to do? I tried to tell you in the beginning! I said it was me, not Gwen, who used magic to save her father. It was me!" He shuddered, clearly not happy to reveal such a thing. "And you laughed, Arthur. You brushed it off as me being lovesick over Gwen." He gave a harsh, bitter laugh. "I was a lovesick fool and incapable of magic, remember?"

Yes, Arthur remembered that. He also remembered that Morgana had magic, thanks to Merlin bringing her up. His eyes hardened further. "Magic is prohibited in Camelot. By using it, you have betrayed all of Camelot. Since I witnessed you using it during the war, there can be no doubt that you are guilty of this crime." The word _'crime'_ used in regards to magic seemed to goad Merlin.

"Oh, right. It's easy for you to judge, Arthur." Merlin snapped. "Now that your war is over and done with, will you banish me too? Like you did Gwen? The same way your father banished Gwaine and Lancelot? Or will you follow in your father's footsteps and have my put to death?"

"I _should_ banish you!" Arthur shot back, stung by Merlin's sudden show of defiance and the hurtful words he flung at him. Did he really think him so callous as to be capable of killing him? Yet why wouldn't he? He never said he wouldn't kill Merlin; that was still the law of Camelot. He hadn't bothered to change it after his father died, had never doubted the law until he realized it applied to Merlin. Merlin, who knew better than anyone what _he_ had done for his father in the war against magic, would he expect to die? The same way that druid boy had? "The act of magic is strictly forbidden! I can't believe you betrayed me like this."

"Betrayed–_Betrayed_ you?" Merlin sputtered, outraged. "Do you know how many times I _saved_ your miserable life with magic?"

"No, Merlin, but I assume you're going to enlighten me." Arthur rolled his eyes. As if it could be that many times. He'd already listed one, that time in Ealdor.

Merlin, however, was more than happy to go down the list. Since the first time he saved him, against the singing sorceress, to the most recent time in this previous war. He withheld certain facts; ones that he knew would injure Arthur's pride. Even now, he wouldn't, couldn't hurt Arthur. Not like that. He hadn't wanted to hurt him with his magic, but how could he do anything but hide it from Arthur? "Besides which, I actually had to kill your uncle. I don't like killing, Arthur. I hate killing. But you never turn your hand against your family and that's fine. That's fine because I was here to take care of them for you. Them. Morgana. Agravaine. But I'm tired of saving your life and being treated like crap. I'm tired of making all the sacrifices and letting you gain all the glory. I don't want to be recognized as a Knight of Camelot or anything like that, I just want to be able to fight by your side without getting grief from you and everyone else for it."

"Oh that's rich." Arthur scoffed. "When have you ever had to sacrifice anything for me? I've had to sacrifice a whole lot more, Merlin, more than you could ever imagine–"

"My best friend, Will." There were tears in his eyes and his voice shook. He couldn't believe Arthur had never seen it. "My best friend sacrificed his life for you and you, you acted like he was terrible because he lied and said he used magic. He lied to save my life."

Arthur blanched. "Well, one time doesn't really count as many sacrifices." He muttered softly. In his heart of hearts, however, Arthur prayed that was the only one. He'd never seen Merlin look like this, on the verge of tears.

"There have been others." Merlin continued, dashing Arthur's hopes. He took a moment to compose himself, desperately wishing not to choke on the words that came pouring forth, as if from his very soul. "Freya. The girl I _fell in love with_." Tears spilled over and slid down his cheeks. "She was cursed, something _she_ couldn't help. She turned into a Bastet and killed people. She hated herself for that but I, I loved her. Before I got a chance to save her, you killed her. You mortally wounded her." Leon started at that, remembering the beast Merlin described. He had played a part in the girl's death as well. He'd watched her die and rejoiced. Merlin had seemed withdrawn after that for a time but he hadn't connected the events. He paled, feeling nauseous. He'd rejoiced over the death of a friend's beloved. Having his own love he was trying to woo, he didn't even want to think of the pain he went through over that.

Behind the knight, Tristan stiffened. He too knew the loss of his beloved, which was still fresh in his mind. This past month, finding the chance to settle down in Camelot for a short period of time while the court was put back in order, had done little to ease his grief. Yet Merlin had worked hard, doing his best to befriend him and talk to him. He'd sensed that he had lost someone close to him as well but never for an instant had he thought… Yet this boy, this young man in that childishly gangly body of his, had devoted himself to Arthur, despite his loss at his hand. He had new respect for Merlin. His judging eyes turned to regard Arthur, wondering if he could hold onto the righteousness and justice he'd been willing to fight for in the forest when he first joined his fight, or if this spoiled king would succumb to feelings of vengeance for a perceived betrayal.

"And then there's my mother. In order to save your life, I nearly sacrificed her own. Do you realize how hurt I was to realize that? Of course there were others, Arthur." Percival looks away, not able to bare the pain in Merlin's voice or the sight of his tears. Having watched his mother die a slow and painful death from disease, he could imagine the pain Merlin must have felt when he thought he was loosing her. To know that it was _his_ fault and that it was to save someone else, even if it was his prince, must have made the ordeal twice as painful. He hoped Arthur could understand his predicament. It seemed Merlin had suffered much trying to protect Arthur while keeping his secret safe. He'd never been particularly turned against magic, although he held his tongue on the matter after seeing what magic was capable of when used for evil. The incident with Lamia alone had left him wary of the craft, yet he wondered if it was truly so bad for Merlin, of all people, to have some knowledge of it?

"I've lost so many people I care about, simply because you needed saving. You needed my help. What about Lancelot? He was the only person who knew my secret, figured it out and swore not only to keep it but also to help me use it to keep you safe. He was my true friend and I watched him die. I watched him die for me, for you, for all of Camelot." Gwaine twitched slightly at that. He'd begun to suspect that there was more to Merlin than met the eye but he had drown his suspicions. Merlin was his first friend, his only true friend, and he hadn't wanted to hold a secret as precious as that, one that could hurt his friend or cost him his life. Yet Lancelot had been willing to carry that secret. What kind of friend was he, if he was unable to do even that much for Merlin? He hadn't wanted to know about his secrets, which was part of the reason he'd been pushing him away, even _before_ the Lamia incident. After what happened, he'd placed even more distance between them, although he still played the joking fool.

Merlin continued on, not realizing that he was giving all the Knights of the Round Table something to think about. "And Gaius. How many times have you and your father put his life on the line because of something someone else said or did? Gaius, who has been like a father to me. Not to mention my _own_ father. I lost him because of you too."

"Your father? You said you didn't _know_ your father." Arthur felt anger coming on. Had he lied about that as well? Arthur had trusted him, had talked to him about his mother. That fragile connection they held, where they both didn't know one of their parents, had _meant_ something to him. It had meant a lot to him.

"I didn't. I didn't get a chance to either. You watched him die, watched Balinor die, and all _you_ could care about was failing your father. I watched _my_ father die and I wasn't even allowed to mourn his death! So don't you say you've sacrificed more or that I betrayed you. Don't you dare say that, Arthur." He wiped his tears away. "You were allowed to mourn your father's death. You were allowed to claim your heritage without fear. Even now, you can embrace your beloved. You have never had to raise your hand to someone like you, to see yourself and your fears and hopes inside them. I stood by your side through all that, _despite_ all that."

Arthur looked at him as if he was seeing Merlin for the first time. All this revelation had his mind reeling. If even half of what Merlin claimed were true, magic _could_ be used for good. Magic was not evil. If that were true, perhaps it could be harnessed and used in their favor–but no. He couldn't believe that, couldn't allow for that thought to take root in his mind. Such thoughts would be a betrayal of his father. He looked down at Excalibur on his hip. The sword had given him strength and confidence once, when he lost all faith in himself. Since Merlin hadn't mentioned his part played in that, instinctively knowing that revealing that would break the fragile belief his king had recently regained, he didn't know it was magical. He fingered the hilt; looking to it to find the answers he was searching for, the answer of how to handle this and what he should do. Then he turned his back on Merlin and addressed everyone else. "Magic has always been a crime punishable by death but seeing as you have shown yourself loyal to me and the court all this time, I will show leniency and banish you from Camelot instead."

"Arthur..." Merlin began.

"That is _all_ I'm willing to do, Merlin. From this day forth, if you step foot inside the boarders of Camelot, you will be killed."

"I understand." His voice shook and he didn't bother hiding his tears. He bowed low to Arthur's back and the words he said hit Arthur harder than any magical curse could. "It has been an honor serving you, Sire. I know you will create a great kingdom, the Albion everyone has been waiting for. Goodbye, Arthur." With those words, Merlin turned and ran away. His back was already disappearing into the crowded street when Arthur whirled around. The Knights of Camelot watched with heavy hearts as Merlin fled. Percival was the first to turn away, unable to bear the sight of Merlin fleeing from Camelot. Gwaine looked away next; angry with himself for not standing up for his friend and injustice he had to bear by staying silent. He was a knight and he refused to break his word, even under these circumstances. He wouldn't let Arthur change who he was but– _"Damn it!"_ He kicked over a barrel of fresh barley, overturning it and upsetting the street vendor, before he stormed away, intending to drown his pain and find a nice barmaid to distract him for the day, or maybe a week. Elyan watched Merlin make it down the street before he also turned away. His gaze searched out Gwaine's angry retreat before he moved closer to Percival. He took comfort in the larger man's gentle strength before and now he needed it more than ever. Only Sir Leon and Tristan watched in silence as Merlin made his way to the gate and disappeared beyond the walls of Camelot.

Arthur couldn't bear to see the sight any more than his knight. He'd expected some sense of relief once everything was revealed. Instead, he felt guilt and grief. Worse still, the sense of betrayal hadn't gone away either. If anything, it seemed to increase. Yet his betrayal, strangely enough, no longer seemed directed at Merlin. Or, well, not _solely_ at Merlin but at himself as well. Was there nothing he could do to set things right in his heart? He could think of nothing and the sight of Merlin running away made him turn and travel at a brisk pace back towards the palace. He too had to run from fate and the nagging feeling that he just lost a part of him.

* * *

Merlin walked. He walked until his legs were weak, until they felt like gelatin, and still he continued to walk. He walked until his shoes were worn through, patched them up as best as he could, and walked on. He didn't stop walking despite having entered another kingdom. He kept walking until he collapsed from exhaustion in the middle of the town square. He happened to collapse almost literally at the feet of the Crown Prince Alistair. Not that he knew this, of course. He was just so tired, so weary, both physically and emotionally. He'd tried to tear out his heart, to rip it from his body, metaphorically speaking. When that hadn't worked he'd clawed at his chest, attacking himself in hope that the desolation would disappear. He didn't want to deal with this pain anymore. He just wanted it to disappear. _He_ wanted to disappear.

* * *

To say that the Prince was startled when a traveler literally collapsed at his feet was an understatement. He took a step back, both physically and mentally, trying to acquaint himself with the situation. This was Mercia, a peaceful land. There should be no need for anyone to look that ragged. His father might not be as invested in the people as he and his brother were, but he would be aghast to hear such an incident occurred. He was still trying to mentally work out what happened and how to handle the situation when he noticed movement. His brother, Prince Sebastian knelt beside the boy. No, he was a young man; he could see that as Sebastian carefully rolled him over to get a better look at him. His clothes were tattered, the kerchief around his neck torn nearly in half and the brown jacket full of rips. His pants were little better, and there places where it looked as whatever struck through his clothing had torn skin, for there was blood as well.

Matted hair stuck to his face from sweat and his half-open eyes flickered from his brother to him. He had a second to see the brightest blue he'd ever borne witness to before they fell shut and his chest heaved, his breathing labored. His eyes flickered to Sebastian, who looked up as if sensing his gaze. For a moment, they shared a mental conversation with their eyes, as they had often done as children. Then Alistair gave a curt nod before turning away. Sebastian immediately took charge, understanding without words what his brother wished to convey. He watched him begin to walk away before he turned to address his servants.

Grinning at them like a fool, although he only let them think that, he gestured to the young traveler. "I've taken a liking to him. Take him back to the housing my brother and I share. We'll clean him up and make him well again in no time." When no movement was immediately apparent, his eyes hardened slightly. How dare they refuse him? "I said, _pick him up. Now._ If you would be so kind."

The icy tone seemed to do the trick and his servants as well as a few of his guards immediately set to work preparing to move the boy. He made a mental checklist of everything that would need to be taken care of; of course, a physician would be called and scouts would be sent out. He'd find out his background, whether he was truly one of their serfs, how he'd come to town in such a state, and the best way to make sure he stayed. It was rare that his brother took an outside interest in anyone. That it took someone literally falling at his feet to grab his attention was no surprise to him; that he seemed to want to observe the boy was new. Ever the devoted little brother, Sebastian had every intention of pampering his older brother. He'd give him everything he wanted, everything in his power to give, including this young man. It shouldn't be too hard; after all, he was technically theirs to already.

By the end of the day, he'd been brought to the small rustic cabin both brothers had spent their time in as children. They'd grown up away from the palace and the nobles for several years, anonymous among their people. It wasn't simply because it was tradition; for at least one year, usually two, every king in Mercia had to go through a humility ceremony, where they learned a trade in the lower town and pretended to be a commoner. It taught a respect of the people that would not be quickly forgotten and it fostered a love in the people for their king, who was willing to work along side them regardless of rank. No, it wasn't simply because of this ceremony that both brothers had spent several years as seemingly simple peasants; they're lives had been under threat at the time. Only these past five years had proved fruitful in capturing and dispatching the ones responsible for that threat. However, because of this, the little thatched roof cottage had become a sort of second home for the princes. It was here that Merlin was brought, unconscious, and here that Prince Alistair met Prince Sebastian.

Grinning at his big brother, he gave a mock salute. "Should I send a servant to fetch the court physician?"

Merlin moaned and twitched, causing them both to look at him. Slowly, with a frown on his face, Alistair shook his head. "No…" He sounded unsure as he stared at Merlin. When his teal eyes turned back to Sebastian, they had gained reassurance. "No. We'll bandage him ourselves. We can at least do that much." He added grimly.

"Right!"

They spent a fitful night, bandaging his wounds and caring for him. He was unnaturally pale – o r maybe his skin was supposed to be that white? – and his skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Morning brought some relief and they allowed a servant to take over their duties for a brief respite. Stepping outside, Alistair sighed, for that small home seemed stifling somehow when he was watching the raven haired youth struggle for consciousness. He leaned on the wall, getting his second wind, as his brother greeted their runners. It seems that he'd truly understood everything he'd silently asked of him yesterday. There was no one matching the boy's description in the kingdom. Scouts would need to be sent out, discretely of course, to check the towns on the other side of their borders. It was one thing to claim one of his citizens as a convenient form of entertainment and quite another to take a citizen of a bordering kingdom. He wouldn't start an international incident for the boy, no matter how intriguing he found his presence. However, he hoped if it were truly the case that he was from another kingdom, perhaps he could find a way to keep him without starting a war. What was one peasant between one king and another?

They went back inside and tended to Merlin again. Checking his bandages, which seemed a little too loose, they changed them. Perhaps he'd be better tonight. Perhaps they could avoid one more day of treaty matters and territory disputes. Perhaps he would want to stay with them. Perhaps… Perhaps… Alistair noticed Sebastian already asleep on the bed. On the verge of nodding off, he reached out and grasped the young man's hand. His nursemaid used to do this for him when he was little and sickly, since the queen was too prone to illness to come herself. It always made him feel better. His eyes heavy, he thought it wouldn't hurt to close them for just a minute. The man no longer seemed clammy, but rather a little warm instead. Was that a good sign? Perhaps…

* * *

Several hours later, Merlin woke with a start, sweating and panting. He looked around wildly and his eyes landed on two young men. One pillowed his head on his arms, resting them on the edge of the bed. The other slept awkwardly in a chair, Merlin's hand grasped loosely in his grip. Who were these two men? They had obviously helped him, rescued him. He owed them a great debt. The question was, why had they helped him and where had they taken him? The surroundings were simple, that of a humble house. They had calluses on their hands. They didn't appear to be nobles. That suited him just fine – he'd had enough of nobles to last him a lifetime. He wiggled his way out of bed, careful not to disturb them. He wasn't that great of a cook but he could do something as simple as cook some eggs and brew some coffee. At least, with a little help of magic, it wouldn't taste completely terrible. Or burnt to an unappetizing blackish brown.


	2. Aftermath - Month 1

Author's Note: So I got all excited and hyped up for the new Merlin season right? **IT'S NOT TAPING AT ALL.** I checked all my channels and it's only showing reruns. I almost cried when I saw that. I would have posted this sooner but I was pretty bummed to find out I'm going to miss the new season, especially since I have no idea why. :( Feel free to give me spoilers! I love spoilers! But yeah, no new season for me so I'll just have to go off of old seasons (which I was planning on doing anyway but) and wing it. About the coffee comment. I was under the impression coffee was discovered around the middle ages, although I could be wrong. It would be a relatively new concept, and probably more for the rich. If I'm wrong, oh well, I made a mistake, it happens and I'm sorry. As for the stove bit below, I'm again winging it. I know they didn't have stoves, just go with it please.

Final note, the dividers are giving me a hard time so where they're not showing up, I'm going to start putting my own dividers. It's meant to be a Mirror Image of Merlin's name so sorry if it seems a little lame or sucky ^^;;;

_Updating the chapters, adding a bit more. I'm still working on chapter 3, sorry!_

* * *

Merlin was warming up the skillet on the stove when they started to rouse. He quickly set about trying to cook but he felt his knees weaken, the pain in his feet returning. Afraid to use magic, as he wasn't sure about how Mercia viewed such practices, he hadn't bothered trying to heal his wounds. To add to the pain, he felt a stitch in his side and with a muffled cry, he began to collapse. He hadn't even time to close his eyes as he braced for impact before he felt a set of strong arms wrap around him, pulling him to lean back against a warm chest. How had the man managed to catch him so quickly? He looked up into the face of a man well over six inches taller than him and was surprised to see it was the one who'd been holding his hand as he slept. He had long, light blond hair that went well past his shoulders and beautiful teal eyes. He felt oddly mesmerized by those oddly colored eyes. His stoic face betrayed nothing, not what he was feeling or thinking, as he stared back down at him. He had slightly thin lips, which looked sober, as if he didn't smile much. Merlin gave him a hesitant smile. "Thanks. It seems I'm not completely healed from my wandering days." His smile grew bigger when he saw the corner of the man's lips twitch up in response, a slight incline of the head in response.

"Alistair?" A voice yawned, and the other young man appearing in the doorway. He was rubbing his eyes and let out a big yawn. Light brown hair with golden highlights framed his face, having not been cut in quite some time. Whereas his friend, or perhaps it was his brother, wore his in a neat ponytail, his hung loosely down to his shoulders. He blinked at the two of them, taking in the scene. His gaze wandered from the skillet to Merlin caught in a strange, backwards embrace, to Merlin's feet. Merlin glanced down as well and realized that the bandages were slightly torn and it looked like the blisters were bleeding again. Not surprising, he'd walked hundreds of miles for nearly three weeks straight, barely taking time to rest or eat. Now that he had a moment to catch his breath, he realized they ached and his legs felt sore from overuse.

"You need to get back to bed." The vibrations from the rich timber of the voice of the man behind him made Merlin shiver and he squirmed a little, uncomfortable at being held for so long. He hadn't complained, knowing there was no way he could stay standing if he wasn't being held up, but still. It was strange to be held so close by a stranger.

"What's going on, Alistair?"

When silence greeted the question, Merlin looked up sharply and was surprised to see the blond man looking pointedly at the skillet. "Breakfast, I suppose."

"Ah." The other man, about Merlin's height, laughed gaily. "Don't mind silent and brooding. My brother, Alistair, is a man of few words. I'm Sebastian by the way. We don't know much about tending wounds except in passing so we did our best last evening. And you don't have to worry about making breakfast for us. We can have some after we take you to the court physician."

The idea of seeing someone else like Gaius stung Merlin and he visibly flinched, trying to pull away. "No! Not the court physician!" He suddenly felt hot, as though he was burning up, and he thrashed about.

Sebastian leapt forward, trying to help his brother restrain the flailing young man. He was half-delirious with fever and in incredible pain due to all he'd suffered during his time in exile. He saw Sebastian's face looking expectantly at Alistair, saying something but the words sounded garbled, as though he was hearing them under water. Then those teal eyes with their unfathomable depths turned on him and suddenly he felt at peace. He could feel himself loosing consciousness but he still managed to murmur out, "No court…physicians…"

* * *

Arthur prowled down the hall, practically fuming at the ears. He ignored the patter of footsteps behind him. He was furious. No, scratch that, he was beyond furious. He couldn't even think of a proper way to express his anger. He refused to listen to the inane chatter supposed to form an apology from the latest servant to earn his ire. Behind him, the servant stumbled, tripping over his feet in his haste to win back the King's good favor. His words faltered, giving Arthur a brief few seconds of silence before the incessant idiotic blubbering began again. He didn't want to hear excuses and he _especially_ didn't want to hear _that name._

"B-but Sire, I didn't mean to offend! Truly! I, I had no idea you were there; I was merely musing to myself!" The poor man professed his apology. "Please, _pl-please_ don't banish me! I, I won't say it again! I swear, I won't even think it!"

Ha! As if that could make anything better! As if _anything_ could be better anymore. With an angry, dismissive wave of his hand, he signed the poor man's fate. "I warned you. I warned all of the servants, all of Camelot. Mention my servant's name, no matter what the circumstances, and you'll suffer the same fate as him." He hurled the words out but they left a bitter taste in his mouth. Nothing could be better anymore. No one could fix how he felt.

"Arthur!" A voice, sweet and patient, but firm in its reprimand, called out to the King of Camelot. Luckily for the servant, the Queen of Camelot was coming their way. Alerted by the commotion and the whispered murmurs between the servants that abruptly cut off in her presence, Gwen had sought out Arthur, expecting such a scene. She hoped she could ease the situation and sooth her husband's frayed nerves. She saw him stiffen and suppressed a sigh. No doubt she would receive another long lecture in the privacy of their room tonight about how she shouldn't chide him in public. Not that they were in public, as the only other person in sight was the servant now practically prostrating at her feet with muttered, _'Your Grace's'_ and muffled, dry sobs.

Gwen knew that Arthur had been moody and withdrawn lately; how could she not, when he snapped at her for little to no reason and wouldn't open up to her at all? She would have to tread lightly, so neither of them inadvertently started yet another fight or said words they would regret later. She was still very conscious of the fact that they were both under the scrutiny of the court nobles. With the betrayal hanging over them like a leaden weight, the couple was being watched closer than ever. She winced, not understanding how Merlin could betray Arthur this way. It didn't jar with the Merlin she knew, the Merlin who had seemed so ready to throw his life away at a moment's notice in order to protect Arthur. These thoughts flitted quickly through her mind as she raced to find the proper, diplomatic words to diffuse the situation.

"Arthur, I understand you're angry."

"Don't bother, Gwen." He said shortly, trying to cut her off before she had even started. He didn't want to listen to her lecture on mercy. Not this time. "His sentence is set. I won't go back on my word."

"He…" Gwen paused, licked her lips, and tried again. "I understand; he broke the law. He must be punished." The man at her feet let out a little whimper and she refused to react. "However, think of the consequences this will have on him. He might have a family. Would you ask him to leave them behind to fend for themselves? Or would you have him take them into exile, though they have done no wrong and have no reason to be shamed so?"

"He should have thought of those consequences before he carelessly uttered…" He trailed off, his face softening for an instance back to the kind-hearted king she once knew. Then it hardened again, as he steeled his heart against the emotions threatening to assail him. He shook his head and glared out the window arch. "No. He made the mistake himself, breaking the law." He held up his hand, staying her protest. "The law is the law, Gwen. Regardless of whether the action is done in secret or in my presence, breaking it requires punishment. I cannot simply cast aside punishment on a whim because I don't like how it will affect someone!" His voice rose severely as he said the last sentence and she sensed they were no longer talking about the servant at his feet.

She wisely held her tongue, knowing from first hand experience that even she would not be spared from his wrath if she tried to bring up Merlin. She had tried, a few days after he was banished. She'd thought Arthur had calmed down; that he would at least talk to her. She couldn't understand how Merlin could use magic and none of the knights would give an account of what happened. Rumors had spread quickly, that Merlin had blessed Camelot and its king before leaving, instead of cursing it as people feared. Yet when she tried to question Arthur on what happened, his anger had rose to new levels. He paced and he ranted, half-screaming in anger. When she mentioned Merlin's name, he snapped, lashing out at her. He struck her cheek, something he instantly regretted. He'd spent the next week apologizing to her and berating himself but Gwen knew that from that day forth, she could never mention Merlin's name again.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Consciousness left him again and he blacked out for what felt like a long time. When he woke again, there was an unfamiliar face peering into his, muttering how he'd been poisoned. Poisoned? Something about bramble bushes, which he vaguely remembered getting scratched by while he was on the run. His eyes were so heavy as he tried to make sense of the faces hovering over him. There withered old man was replaced by Gaius for a brief moment, looking older than he remembered. He wasn't tending to Merlin, but sitting and staring forlornly at the door. Something seemed off about the scene and he shut his eyes against the image and the headache coming on. He couldn't make any more sense of what was being said and when the nasty brown liquid brought sleep, he gladly welcomed it. When his bleary eyes opened again, Gwaine's fuzzy features hovered above him, but oddly enough, he spoke in an unfamiliar voice. Why was he talking like that? More nasty brown liquid was fed to him and unconsciousness came. He murmured in his sleep, not realizing how some of what he could be saying would be alarming. He muttered spells at times, although only minor ones and aside from upsetting a table, did nothing noticeable. Mostly, it sounded like gibberish or some ancient language, _if_ one didn't know better.

However, they _did_ know better. They both had seen sorcerers in action before, including a few that had fled Camelot during the Great Purge. A few had been sent back to Camelot Source – Mercia couldn't be seen taking pity on magic users and bring down Uther's wrath upon them – but a few had escaped into the lower town. None stayed, wanting to get as far away from Uther's kingdom as possible. Even if they hadn't recognized the language, though, it would have been impossible for them not to know who and what he was. The scouts returned two days later, bringing reports from Camelot…

* * *

Naturally, Gwen had been shocked at first. Arthur had never shown any violent tendencies before, not toward women and certainly not toward her. The look on his face showed her that he couldn't believe he'd done it either; he disgusted himself. They'd spent the night in a heavy silence, the shock holding her tongue silent. However, by the next morning, her shock had subsided, giving way to fury. How dare he hit her? He might be the King of Camelot but she was the Queen! She'd listened to his entreatments for forgiveness in stony, hurt silence. She could hardly leave him; abandoning the King was a type of treason, punishable by death, but she would no accept such treatment. She loved her husband but the idea that he would raise his hand to her, that he might do so in the future to their children, chilled her to her bones. Three days passed in this fashion before she finally relented to hear him out. He kept apologizing long after she forgave him, although she had done so only with the promise that he was never to raise his hand to her again. Even now, she found herself hesitant to completely trust that he would keep his promise. It wasn't because she didn't believe in Arthur, but because the trust she'd once had that _she_ knew him best was shattered. Before Merlin's betrayal and banishment, she'd known her husband's every move and could predict his reactions. Now, it was as if he'd lost a part of himself and he was acting out in order to cover for that. But how could he, her King, be missing something with her by his side? She'd never envied nor found fault in his close, interdependent relationship with Merlin. She wondered if she should have objected.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Understandably, her brother had reacted with less grace. When he noticed the slight discoloration on her bruised cheek, only his position as a knight stopped him from interrupting the council meeting and demanding to know what happened. Afterward, with his temper barely reigned in, he spoke with cold fury, wanting to know who dared laid hands on his sister and why he hadn't heard about it sooner. Upon finding out who was responsible, he almost wept in anger, letting out a cry of frustration and betrayal. Even now, he still holds a grudge against Arthur, unable to forgive the single heated moment that transpired between him and his sister. That, on top of the already sensitive subject of Merlin, has taken a hard toll on their friendship. While his loyalty as a knight to his king has never wavered, not even once, his friendship with Arthur has turned brittle and is slowly breaking apart. He finally understands why Gwaine appears so torn; he understands the feeling well. Arthur is their king, they gave their oath that they would honor him as king, something that is not to be taken lightly and must never be broken. Yet his loyalty is first to his sister, has always been and will always be. It was one thing to put up with her banishment; as much as it pained him, he understood it. She'd betrayed the king. This matter was unacceptable, though yet there was nothing he could do. If he struck the king in retaliation, he would only cause his sister more pain. Not to mention, if the king wished to execute him for treason, it would leave sweet Gwen alone in this world. He could no longer trust Arthur to protect her, so he must remain by her side and in the court for the rest of his life, forever swallowing his anger toward this betrayal.

* * *

It isn't just Sir Elyan who's taking the king's change in behavior and Merlin's banishment hard. The other knights had reacted poorly as well, Sir Gwaine being the foremost in that category. Whereas after becoming a knight, he'd kept his drinking and roughhousing to a minimum; he'd changed after Merlin left. Gone is the dandy, laughing knight able to cheer everyone in a tense moment. He's become sullen and morose, drinking when he could and staring at nothing. He flirts with girls haphazardly, not caring if they're married or betrothed and often getting into fights over it. While he doesn't start brawls or get involved in them often, he's also become more violent. Something in him broke the day Merlin left, something irreplaceable, and he refused to find a way to heal it. None of the other knights blamed him for his self-destructive behavior, understanding that he had cared for Merlin perhaps the most. Instead, they stepped in and tried to keep him under control, to break up the fights and to drag him away from the taverns. It was now Sir Leon's job to watch out for Sir Gwaine, make sure he didn't start any fights or dishonor the Knights of Camelot. Merlin had once entertained Gwaine enough that he would have never even thought of such an act; now, he seemed determined to be banished and follow his friend. Percival stepped into Merlin's place of picking Gwaine up from the taverns, dragging him away from reckless flirting and mindless insults. Elyan took to watching him on patrols, making sure when he drifted off from the group to bring him back. Once, when he was sure he'd spotted Merlin on a routine border run, Gwaine had flung himself from his horse and taken off. The knights spent the rest of the day chasing him and two more convincing him it wasn't the warlock. It was the only time he cried over the loss of his friend.

Sir Percival and Sir Leon seem the least effected but even their attitudes have had slight changes. Percival became even quieter, if that's possible to imagine. He tended to hold his tongue much more now, his eyes occasionally drifting off. At times, it seemed as though he wanted to say something but didn't know how. Other times, it seemed as though he was searching for something with his eyes. In a quiet conversation with Elyan, shortly after the incident with the queen, he admitted his thoughts to draw his mind away from mutinous thoughts toward his brother-in-law. In hushed tones, he told Elyan how he wished Lancelot was still alive, as he was sure he would know what to do in this situation. He kept his thoughts on magic and sorcery to himself, but he admitted that if Lancelot had backed Merlin as he thought he would, he probably would have taken his side. Sir Leon, on the other hand, took to nervous chatter. Sensing the change in the knights and in his king, he does his best to diffuse the situation when he can but he knows it's a hopeless task. He often wishes to himself that Merlin were there. He always seemed to know what to say and how to perk them all up.

On top of it all, Tristan reproached Arthur for his treatment of Merlin, landing him in the dungeon when he kept up his verbal disapproval. Yet Arthur felt for the smuggler, who had recently lost his beloved on his behalf. He only sentenced him for a day, in hopes of appeasing the nobles who glared at him as though looking for a reason to spill his blood. If Tristan understood the awkward position he was putting Arthur in, he never showed it. The next day he was out and he went straight back to trying to talk sense into Arthur. Arthur would silently rage and seethe whenever he brought up Merlin's name, almost snarling when he made a comment about bringing him back. A pattern began, where the former smuggler took to chiding and goaded the king, ending up thrown back in the dungeons when he calls Arthur on his prattish behavior. Oddly enough, he's the only one capable of getting away with saying Merlin's name. Tristan doesn't go out of his way to say the name but he does call Arthur on his behavior and his sudden change in attitude now that Merlin's gone. He constantly mentions how they first met, and Merlin's involvement in the affair. Once, in a heated argument, he even dared to bring up Isolde. The raw pain that showed on his face as he mentioned his lost love in connection to Merlin's kindness in regards to that feeling seemed to give the king pause. For once, he truly _listened_ to what Tristan had to say, taking his words into account. He didn't lock him up in the dungeon and for a week, his attitude mellowed. Speaking of Isolde is still too painful for the former smuggler though and he would never stoop so low as to use his love's death, not even to knock sense into _'the selfish and bratty king'_ of Camelot. All of the knights, all of Camelot was paying for Merlin's absence.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Mercia, Merlin's fever had finally broken and as the week went by, he began recovering nicely. According to his two hosts, he had given them quite a scare, shouting nonsense and alternating between violent shivering and sweating. After reading the reports of a banished warlock, an extremely powerful one who was a former member of the court, they had talked it quietly over. Finally, they decided not to tell him the truth, afraid of his reaction and that the shock would be too much for him to handle in his current condition. They pretended not to know anything, and Merlin sensing no malice in their deceit was oblivious to the lie. His bandaged feet were healing nicely, although Sebastian pointedly told him it was taking so much longer because Merlin wouldn't sit quietly in bed. He was constantly being scolded by the brunette for not staying off his feet. Merlin laughed it off, saying he hated being idle, which was only partly true. In reality, he had more of a problem being still too long as it let his mind wander rather than being idle. Sebastian made cracks at him being a 'first-rate servant', which made Merlin only laugh, even while his chest contracted painfully when he remembered when Arthur said the opposite. Alistair remained silent on the matter, not commenting on his behavior. He simply stood beside him in stoic silence, ready to be of assistance should he ever need it.

Sebastian, he finally recognized, was the one who'd been looking over him in concern. Not that he looked a great deal like Gwaine. It was just that, their hair length was similar, although Sebastian's was slightly longer, and they wore it down in a similar manner. He had a slightly smaller nose than Gwaine, however, and his face was a bit rounder. Whereas the years of hard living showed on Gwaine's face, Sebastian's seemed full of cheer. And honestly, if Merlin was to admit it to himself, Sebastian was a bit better looking than Gwaine, if only just a bit. He couldn't understand where the image of Gaius had come from, and as he had no memory of the poison chalice, he didn't know his magic could allow his mind to reach out to those who needed him.

* * *

They soon settled into a routine, with him wobbling around the house like a newborn foal and trying to accomplish something, usually while they watched on and sometimes helped. Sometimes he'd manage to do a little cooking before his feet would ache too much and he had to sit down. Sometimes he would try to clean and clumsily make everything worse. For the first week after his fever broke, both brothers were by his side constantly. During that time, someone seemed to constantly on their door, demanding to talk to one or both of the brothers. More often than not, Alistair would reluctantly remove himself to talk in his quiet, cultured voice and calm whatever fears this newest person had.

They didn't ask questions about him, which was a welcome change, and they didn't want to know about his past. Grateful for this allowance of privacy, he returned the favor and asked no questions of them. After that first week was finished, they fell into the habit of one or both of them disappearing for several hours during the day, only to reappear toward the evening. He didn't ask where they went and a part of him didn't want to know. Merlin always welcomed them back with a warm smile and a hot, if slightly bland, meal. Usually it was something simple that didn't take too long to cook, as he was still getting used to standing for longer periods of time on his feet. They shared a small meal together, although it was never quiet or dull. From the tidbits shared over the meal, he discovered they had a love of teasing and making fun of the nobles behind their backs, calling them names. He also learned that while Mercia didn't embrace magic users, the practice was not outlawed. They had a wary view on magic but at least they were open to it, something he found was a relief. He was coming to depend on Sebastian and Alistair and he found he didn't want to be parted from them.

After his reaction to seeing the court physician, they brought him little news of the nobles or the palace, keeping the talk light and nonsensical. His only regret in this was that he could ask of no news of Arthur. On the other hand, the painful squeezing in his chest whenever he thought of Arthur suggested this might be a good thing, so he spoke no word of Camelot or it's king, his former friend. Instead, he listened as Sebastian complained about his day and Alistair made the odd comment or two. Contrary to his first impression of them, the two were nobles, though they tried to hide it. Still, it came out in their cultured accents, an aspect they were unable to hide.

It made him smile when they tried to mimic whet they thought the common people sounded like. He couldn't tell if they were as close as they hoped, since he had rarely been outside since he first awoke inside this roomy cabin. So intent were they on his recovery, they spared little thought to introducing him to his new fellow countrymen. Not that Merlin minded. He wasn't sure whether he would be accepted in this country or not, seeing as he was in exile from Camelot and Mercia was a friend of Camelot. It would be harder to leave if he made friends again. Still, he had to suppress a chuckle when, over dinner, they would slip up and fall back into their old accents. He'd grown comfortable in their presence and he'd like to say they felt the same. Yet it worried him that they had taken to whispering amongst themselves late into the night. They spoke in hushed tones and if they thought he might be near, they quickly tapered off. He considered briefly listening in on their conversations magically, and subsequently decided against it. He would respect their privacy as they had respected his.

His nervousness grew, intensifying as time wore on. What was wrong? For clearly, something must be terribly wrong if they were this concerned over it. As he fretted over what could possibly be bothering them and how he could help, his health began to decline again. This fact was not lost on the cause of his anxiety, and the two took to furious whispering even during the day. They'd give him slightly guilty looks when he walked in on them, only to pretend nothing was wrong. As far as he could tell, Sebastian wanted to tell him something that Alistair was reluctant to admit. Finally, they seemed to come to an agreement one late afternoon. As Merlin was clearing away the dishes, Sebs cleared his throat nervously. "Merlin. There's, uh. There's something you should know."

"That sounds ominous." Merlin quipped, swallow the dread he felt. He was trying his best to keep the mood light, though his attempt failed. The nervous tension was almost palpable in the air. Slowly, he turned and looked at them. Alistair was sulking, actually _sulking_, and Sebastian looked even more nervous. His heart beating a mile a minute, he licked his lips and doing his best to quell his shaking knees, Merlin nodded. "What is it?"

Silence followed for a moment before Alistair gave an annoyed sigh. Without ceremony, he stood up and looked Merlin square in the eye. He felt the strange calm influencing him as he stared into those teal eyes. His words shattered that influence. "I am Crown Prince Alistair of Mercia, next in line for the thrown."

In the silence that followed, Sebs stood up and laughed awkwardly, his expression guilty. "And I'm his younger brother…Prince Sebastian of Mercia."

The plate Merlin was holding crashed to the ground, the shards flying upward and scraping his hands and arms, not that he noticed. He hadn't been expecting them to be hiding _that_.


	3. Aftermath - Month 3

**Author's Note:** A few things before we start. I'd like to thank you all for informing me that I hadn't missed the Merlin season. ;_; You have no idea how much better you've made me feel. Now, I wanted to have this out in October but life took over. I'll work hard to finish it tonight so that it's ready for you first thing in the morning! Not sure when I'll get the next one out, but sadly I'll be away from a computer until January.

Secondly, about Merlin's hands: you might have some vague concerns about his hands and what happened to them. It's based on an actual event that happened to my sister. She was holding a glass bowl and accidentally dropped it. The glass shards flew up and cut up her hands and arms. She said she was lucky she was wearing jeans, so that her legs weren't messed up as well. That explained, please enjoy the story. :D

_One last note. I went back and updated the previous chapters. I tried not to add too much, not wanting to change where this story has been going, but I wanted to explain some of the background information that I neglected. For instance, why Alistair took Merlin in. If you want, you can go back and reread it or you can keep going. It won't effect the current story, only make it flow better._

* * *

There was no sound in the room as they stared at each other. Alistair was staring at Merlin with an unfathomable expression; somewhere between stoic and what he thought just _might_ be a flicker of concern. Sebastian rocked on his heels slightly, clearly uncomfortable by the silence, and glanced periodically from the floor to Merlin and back again. He looked once at his brother but quickly returned his gaze to the floor. Seconds ticked by and still no one moved in the suddenly suffocating cabin. Indeed, Merlin hardly dared to breathe. His mind was reeling. Princes? They were princes? And not just _any_ princes either! Alistair was the _Crown_ prince! Vaguely, he wondered if this was how Arthur had felt when he discovered he'd been betrayed—his mind snapped from it's stupor at the thought. No. No, this was different. _They_ hadn't betrayed him any more than he had betrayed Arthur. He shouldn't be thinking such thoughts. His hands stung a little from the cuts he'd received but he ignored the sensation, barely managing to choke out a response. He only hoped it didn't sound as awkward as he felt.

"Oh. Why didn't you tell me before?"

Sebastian looked slightly confused by Merlin's reply and glanced briefly at his brother. Alistair's face remained a stoic mask, revealing nothing of his thoughts. Shifting uncomfortably, he looked away from Merlin and then back again as he answered. "Uh, well, you see… You didn't really take well to the mention of _'court physician'_ so we thought it would be best to wait to tell you."

Merlin nodded dumbly. That made sense. He probably wouldn't have reacted half as well to them or their kindness if they had told him when they first met. He was already suspicious of nobles, since his dealings with the ones in Camelot. He knew that they had been prejudice against him for being so close to the King. Surely, none of them were sorry to see him go, not with how much Arthur had turned against him. The thought caused him to wince, drawing slightly worried looks from both of the princes. Alistair came forward, gently taking Merlin's hands in his own so that he might look over them. The scrapes from the shattered plate were mostly superficial, only a few of them looking a little deep. That didn't stop those probing teal eyes from pinning Merlin with an almost concerned look as he flinched away from the touch.

Trying to fill the heavy silence, Merlin decided he should talk. "Oh. Uh, well, I'm Merlin." His face flamed bright red as he realized how stupid that sounded. Quickly, he added more to try and cover his embarrassment. "I'm the former assistant to Camelot's court physician. His name's Giaus." Hissing in pain, his eyes briefly squeezed shut as Alistair's fingers grazed over one of the cuts on his hand. Perhaps it was a good thing, as he missed the secretive, knowing look the two brothers shared. Alistair's voice was slightly unsure but his tone blunt as he addressed the current issue. "Ah. So you know how to take of wounds. How can we help?"

He blinked at them, not expecting that response. How could they help? It was the first time a noble, a prince no less, had offered to help him. "Uhhh… Well, I suppose you could start with showing me what herbs you have on hand." He doubted they would know what herbs to look for if he asked them or where to find them if they didn't have what he needed. He could only hope they had the right herbs on hand, or something close enough that would help. They scrambled to get the herbs, proving his theory correct that they had no idea what to do in this situation. He wondered if he shouldn't teach them. After all, a prince should know which herbs could heal him, even if it was only a rudimentary help. He decided he would teach them as they laid out the supplies before them. Luckily, he found the herbs he needed. Slowly, he instructed them on how to prepare the medical herbs. It wasn't going to be as well made as anything Giaus would have made, especially since he was improvising on some of the materials they didn't have on hand, but it should do the trick. His mind briefly flickered to Arthur, who had at least a most basic of basic knowledge in regards to medicinal herbs. He winced, shaking his head to banish the thought. No, Arthur no longer needed his help. His destiny was complete; his other half had severed him completely. Oblivious of the worried looks the brothers shot him in reaction to the grimace, he tried to explain as best as he could how to _properly_ wrap a bandage, not too loose or too tight.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

In this past month since Merlin's banishment, Arthur's actions had been called into account, analyzed, and finally deemed honorable. A decision Arthur had brushed off with a small grunt and a dismissive wave, refusing to talk about the subject at all. Shortly after, he proclaimed that Merlin's name was to be stricken from the records and that mention of it would result in immediate banishment. This action had held in the court, but every once in a while, he had a feeling that the servants were spreading rumors about the errant warlock out of his hearing. It had been almost three months since his banishment now, and Arthur's mood had grown increasingly worse with each passing week. He ground his teeth until his jaw ached and his smile disappeared almost completely from his face. When they weren't fighting, Gwen still managed to bring a smile to his face but even those moments were becoming increasingly rare. He wouldn't admit it, _couldn't_ admit it, but he missed Merlin. He missed him to his very core and he could feel the difference of not having him around had. He missed the way Merlin used to make him laugh, missed the quirky smile the servant used to send him, missed how ridiculously endearing his appearance had become, from his big ears to his laughing blue eyes. Except… Except, Merlin hadn't been laughing quite as much lately. He'd been so tense before the betrayal his Uncle had dealt him but even returning to the kingdom had done little to relax him. Why had he become so uptight?

He stalked down the halls, heading toward the knight's barracks. Perhaps some sparring would take his mind off things. He didn't train nearly half as often as he used to, before he became king. He rarely went on patrols and even the hunting parties had fallen into disarray as of late. Perhaps Merlin had been right about him gaining weight from lack of activity? He snorted, no, that wasn't true. He wasn't inactive, Merlin was wrong and he would tell him so when he saw him next— He froze, eyes widening. Where had that thought come from? When he saw him next? He _banished_ Merlin! He was never going to see him again!

The full weight of his decision weighted down on him then. He was never going to see Merlin again. There would be no more rare glimpses of wisdom, he wouldn't hear those words he very much needed to hear from his manservant to cheer him up. There would be no more poking fun at his need to exercise or carefully written, clever speeches designed to be slightly fun and entertaining so even _he_ wouldn't get bored reading them. There would be no merry laughter and jokes late at night as he poured over his latest worry in the dead of night. Merlin was gone. Merlin was gone for good and he was never coming back. He'd made sure of that, though, hadn't he? He had driven him from Camelot and he was _glad_ for it. He wanted him gone. He didn't _need_ a servant to poke fun at him or entertain him. He didn't _need_ for a friend; for yes, he had considered Merlin to be one of _those_ very much in those few sparse months before the betrayal; to calm his frayed mind and point him in the right direction. He had advisors to help him make decisions. Merlin wasn't needed. He had a castle full of servants to take care of his every whim. Merlin wasn't needed. He had a beautiful, amazing Queen to be his partner and friend. _Merlin wasn't needed._ A noise startled him and he realized with a start, he'd made it. That choking sound came from him, because it was a lie. It was a _lie._ Merlin _was_ needed, he needed him very much. He wanted Merlin back, wanted his friend by his side, wanted to know that everything would be alright again. Because, as hard as it was to admit, when Merlin was by his side he _knew_ everything would somehow be alright. Merlin _made_ it alright.

No, that wasn't true. Merlin's _magic_ made everything alright. He hardened his heart, willing it to become stone. Merlin had magic, had used it willing in defiance of the law, and betrayed him. Whatever good he might have done didn't matter. He used magic and betrayed Arthur. Arthur couldn't allow himself to be swayed by childish longing for a friend. He couldn't allow his pride to weaken, his resolve to fray, simply because he missed a _servant._ That was all Merlin was to him. He had to convince himself of that fact. Merlin was simply a servant, nothing more. He had never been anything more than a servant who happened to catch his passing fancy. He would never _be_ more than a servant to him. Merlin didn't even exist anymore. Steeling himself, he locked the fond memories away and headed toward the barracks again. He stopped outside the door, hesitating. This was ridiculous. He was acting strange today. He couldn't allow his heart to tremble. He raised his hand to knock on the door and noticed it was ajar. Odd. Why would it be open? Voices drifted through the crack and he recognized Gwaine and Tristan, although he'd never heard those tones from either of them before.

* * *

"Come on now. Enough of this pointless moping." Tristan snapped, fed up with everyone's attitude. "Get up, you lazy horse arse! Quit acting like the world has ended; it hasn't."

"Leave me alone." Gwaine grumbled, sullen and resigned.

Tristan huffed. He decided it was time to use his ultimate weapon. "Merlin would be disgusted if he could see you right now."

Shocked silence met the rebuke. Elyan's sword, which he'd been quietly polishing to give his hands and mind something to do, clattered to the floor. He was too shocked to hold onto it, and he gaped at Tristan. Leon sucked in his breath sharply, his head jerking back as if he'd been struck. Percival, who'd been in the act of standing, was stuck in a half crouched position between sitting and standing. He didn't straighten, his eyes roaming over the rest of the knights. Unconsciously, he was looking for Lancelot or Merlin, someone he trusted to take direction from. He wasn't sure if he should step in or let this berating happen. He didn't get a chance to contemplate it. Satisfied that he had the captive attention of the intended person the comment had been directed at, he continued to hammer the point home to Gwaine.

"Do you doubt it? That boy sacrificed everything for you, for all of you, for Camelot and Arthur. Do you think that if he could see you now, he'd be pleased you were acting like this on his behalf? No, he would scold you."

"Don't talk about him." Gwaine growled in warning, life stirring in his long-dead eyes. He roused slightly, the signs of life he'd shown before Merlin left returning. Leon's sharp gaze noted this and turned a calculating eye on Tristan. Had he predicted this response?

"Why not? I talked to him, you know. We talked a lot before he left."

"He didn't leave, he was banished." Gwaine's voice was flat and he deflated a little.

Tristan snorted. "Do you truly believe that?" His eyes swept the room and he seemed surprise by what he saw. Behind the door, Arthur wondered what he meant. Of course he'd been banished. He had done it himself, hadn't he? Tristan scoffed. "You do. You seriously believe he was banished."

The silence stretched on for a suffocating minute before he shook his head. "I can't believe it. I have never met a bunch of clot pole _morons_ as dense as you lot in my years of smuggling. The only idiot with a thicker skull than you would be your king."

"Hey!" Elyan protested instantly, getting to his feet, before he remembered he was still angry at Arthur for his treatment of his sister. Still, where did Tristan get off, insulting the king like that?

Leon was equally outraged. "You will not speak of the King of Camelot in such a disrespectful manner."

He raised an eyebrow. "So it's alright for Merlin to do it, but no one else?"

"Quit bringing Merlin into this." Gwaine muttered darkly.

"No. This is all about Merlin and you idiots don't even see what he's done."

"What has he done?" For the first time, Percival speaks, standing to his full towering height.

"Banished. Ha." Tristan continues on, as if this last little conversation hadn't happened. "As if your petty little king could truly banish him."

Gwaine roared and suddenly he sprung to life, tackling Tristan. The grief, the overwhelming feelings of being torn between his best friend Merlin and the King he once believed in and sworn loyalty to, Arthur, finally erupted. They'd simmered and boiled to the point he'd thought he'd go mad before he found an outlet for them, but here was the perfect outlet. He and Tristan fought, struggling and rolling around on the ground as they grappled to gain the advantage over each other. They were perhaps the most evenly matched in this situation, since neither had qualms about holding back or fighting dirty. Gwaine spewed profanities at Tristan and Tristan goaded him on. Finally, Gwaine pinned him to the ground, heaving a breath before he demanded, "Tell me… why I shouldn't… run you through."

"Because Merlin's still looking out for you idiots!" The shock this statement brought relaxed his grip for a fraction of a second. That was all Tristan needed. He brought his knee up to slam into Gwaine's groin, head butting him at the same time. In a fluid, practiced movement, he rolled his hips and flipped the knight off him. "God, I can't believe you lot!" He panted, truly riled. "You don't even see that much, can't or won't acknowledge that even now, he's still fighting _for_ you!"

Arthur sucked in his breath sharply, his wide eyes desperately trying to see through the wooden door. What? What did he say? What did he mean? He barely reigned in the desire to slam the door open and shake Tristan, demanding an answer.

Silence reigned on the other side once again. Tristan was done talking, however. He got to his feet, with every intention of leaving. All the knights moved at once, Leon and Percival blocking his exit as Elyan strode over to check on Gwaine's injuries. Gwaine groaned quietly but pushed down the pain his brain was sending him to blink blearily at Tristan. He grabbed for his boot, wanting to drag him down to his level. "What do you… mean?" He gasped, everything aching.

"Do you seriously think that Merlin is so weak that if Arthur gives a command, he _has_ to follow it?" He spat out bitterly. "None of you see it. He's a powerful sorcerer, one that told you all dozens of stories about how he _alone_ saved Camelot. Yet you truly believe that Arthur suddenly barks, _'off with his head'_ and he turns tail to run away? You can't see that he humbled himself, allowed himself to be treated as a lowly servant instead of taking over this kingdom, and continues to act only for the good of the kingdom? He could have killed Arthur with a single word and none of you could have stopped him! He could have enchanted all of Camelot and reinstated magic any time he wished! He could have joined that witch you all fought, the one with the sunken eyes and dark hair who called the king her brother. He could have done any number of things, yet he took his exile without so much of a word of protest. After fighting so hard to protect this land, there are only two reasons he would do that. I choose to believe he plans to keep protecting you all from his exile, doing everything in his power to help."

"What's the other option?" Leon asks.

Pity and compassion show in the look he gives the other knight. "Either he chooses to help you or he's abandoned this land."

* * *

Arthur didn't remember when he started running. He didn't know what they said in response to that, he was already turning the corner at the other end of the hall. His body was burning with the all-encompassing need to run, to flee, to get as far away from that reality as possible. He ran. He let his legs carry him as fast as they could, running down the almost empty halls, ignoring the startled looks servants showed when he raced past them. Soon, the guards would follow him to see what was wrong but he didn't want them. His mind was blank and his chest hurt. There was a painful constricting and he couldn't breathe. No. _No._ He couldn't believe that. He couldn't accept that. He didn't care where he was, Merlin would always be loyal to Camelot. To him. There couldn't be any other outcome. It was never a question of loyalty. He'd always believed that Merlin was loyal to him. Sure, he'd betrayed him but he'd never questioned his manservant's loyalty. How could he? He was stupidly by his side all the time, whether he needed him there or not, whether he _wanted_ him there or not. Until now. Merlin had abandoned him? Merlin had abandoned Camelot? Impossible. Utterly impossible. His vision inexplicably blurred and he finally reached his shared chambers with his Queen. Startled, she looked up from the mirror seated in front of her. She'd come back to change for a luncheon with the noble's wives this afternoon. Her large, brown eyes took in Arthur's appearance, the question leaving them to be replaced with compassion. Her anger melted away for the day and she held out her arms to her husband. He came into the room and collapsed there in her arms, burying his head in her lap where she was seated. She stroked his hair, feeling the wet tears staining her expensive silk dress and not caring. He wasn't crying, of course. She knew he would never admit to something so weak as crying. She continued to stroke his brow, running her finger down his nose as her mother had done long ago, when she was a child. He calmed and eventually fell asleep in her lap. Still, she stroked his brow, wishing that when he woke, the broken man would be gone for good and her husband would have returned to her whole once more.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Merlin surveyed the bandages with an almost looked. They were quick studies. He'd begun teaching them a few weeks ago and already they were figuring out how to handle most of it without asking too many questions. He was impressed and that seemed to please them. Well, Sebastian at least; it was hard to tell what Alistair thought of the lessons. He usually was silent and at times, Merlin worried that he was irritating him. Wouldn't he tell him, if that were the case? He was sure he would. He'd been here just slightly more than three months, and even hearing that these two were royalty had done little to fray their bond. He still viewed as close friends and they were still determined to care for him. He wasn't sure why, but they seemed to have taken him on as some sort of pet project. Even now, they were pampering him. He watched the two in the kitchen, cooking. They'd told him he needed a day off, since he was always cooking for them. It was amusing, really, watching them. Sebastian would try to do all the work, only to get a sarcastic response from Alistair when he encroached on his job. Merlin stifled a laugh as Sebastian tried to grab for some herbs to cut up for the stew and Alistair smacked his hand with the flat of the blade. This started yet another bickering match, as both bothers clearly enjoyed arguing and exchanging barbs. He couldn't help the snort as Alistair prodded him with a well-placed remark and that got a glance his way. He looked properly embarrassed but they both grinned at him. Sebs smile was bright and seemed to take over his face entirely; Ali's smile was small and softened his face, transform his stoic appearance into one of amusement and compassion for a brief moment.

The barbs and jokes reminded him of Arthur, how they used to bicker in the same way over little things. He wondered briefly if Arthur missed him, but no, he wouldn't. He couldn't, he hated him. He remembered the dragon, saying one half could not truly hate that which made it whole. Clearly, he'd lied. What would Kilgharrah know about other halfs, anyway? He was the last Dragon. Okay, to be fair, he _had _hatched Aithusa but that was long after he'd first told him about Arthur. As if he could truly be the other half of Arthur; as if he, a mere peasant's son, could truly complete a king! He was nobody, he thought drearily, slipping slowly into melancholy. This was not lost on the brothers. Sebastian glanced back from his work to make a small barbed remark, in hopes of hearing Merlin's laughter again, only to notice him staring off into the distance. Strangely, as so often it happened when he was lost in thought, his body unconsciously had turned toward the boarder. Was it only a coincidence that whenever their young friend was feeling blue, he turned to Camelot? After hearing the stories told of him, he highly doubted it. Nudging his brother, who hissed at him for messing up his perfectly cut herbs, he gestured to Merlin. Alistair frowned slightly, his brow furrowing. He didn't really show as much interest in Merlin as he had in the first day. Sebastian was beginning to think that the only reason something sparked was he hoped to share him as a project with his brother. Alistair liked taking on people as projects, helping them while he kept an emotional distance from everyone, and sharing the experience with him. He had no idea why he did this, although he usually understood his brother so well.

Yet whenever Merlin got like this, although it had lessened to a certain extent as of late, he seemed to worry. It was during moments like this that Sebastian wondered what his brother was thinking. Alistair, ignoring the scrutiny, set aside the herbs and walked over to Merlin. He kneeled before him and, with a strange amount of care, _flicked_ him in the middle of his forehead. Merlin started, instantly drawn out of his thoughts and rubbed the sore spot indignantly. Without a word, Alistair rose, no doubt intending to rejoin him in preparing the food. He paused, however, when a knock came at the door. He made his way to it but before he could open it, suddenly Merlin bolted from his seat and raced toward him, grabbing his hand. "No, don't!" He hissed.

Alistair's eyes widened and he barely stopped himself from sucking in his breath. Merlin's eyes were molten gold, the color swirling in his irises. Merlin pushed him rather roughly out of the way, an unfitting treatment of the Crown Prince, but he found he didn't mind. He truly didn't mind when in the next moment, a fire ball came hurtling through the door and Merlin's outstretched hand barely managed to catch it, tossing it back at the sorcerer. He didn't notice the pot Sebastian had been holding fall from his hands, crashing to the ground and spilling their dinner. He muttered strange words in a low voice, not caring if he would be caught and executed for using magic in this country. Right now, all that mattered was saving his friends, his _saviors_, from this newest threat. If he had to leave after this, so be it. If they wanted to kill him for his magic… He wouldn't fight his fate anymore. The battle was a quick one. The sorcerer was rather low in level compared to him, although technically, most _were_.

He turned back, expecting to hear demands for an explanation. Instead, Sebs ran to Alistair, barely sparing him or the sorcerer's a glance. He looked him over, clearly concerned for his brother's welfare, and collapsed on the bed when he found him okay. "Ahhh, I was worried I would have to take over the throne for a minute! That's way too much responsibility, I don't want it." He groaned, not wanting to show his concern. Both he and his brother were very reserved about showing that they cared for anyone, even each other.

Alistair replied in true form, "Don't worry. I have no intention of giving up the throne to a lazy brat like you." His silent reassurance that he wasn't going to go anywhere and leave his brother alone.

"Luckily, we had our resident sorcerer on hand. Or are you a warlock?" Sebs grinned at Merlin tiredly.

He blinked at them. They knew who he was? Then it hit him. Of _course_ they knew who he was! They were princes, part of the royal family. And he was a servant who'd been banished from Camelot. No doubt all of the kingdoms knew who he was now. Really, he shouldn't be so surprised. Yet he'd enjoyed the thought of them not knowing, of simply being accepted for who he was without question.

If he understood the emotions warring on Merlin's face, Ali made no sign of it. Instead, he checked him over to make sure he wasn't harmed, frowning slightly when he noticed Merlin's trembling hand. He'd been a second too late, his concern for Alistair making him complacent when it came to casting spells, and his hand received a light burn. Without the help of magic, it would be healed within a week. He wasn't too worried—although Merlin's eyes widened in the next instance. Alistair muttered a small spell, one of the simple basic ones Gaius tried to teach him, and the wound healed.

Sebastian laughed at his expression. "We met a couple druids. They taught us basic healing spells, although that's all we know."

"You… know magic?" Merlin felt—he felt as though he understood how a man dying in a desert would feel to suddenly stumble across an oasis. The relief, disbelief, incredulity, hope, and oddly enough, grief, that warred in his heart was overwhelming. Grief, he slowly understood, that he might have truly been accepted for who he was, no questions asked, in this land where he was a stranger when in his home, he'd been branded an outcast and a traitor.

Alistair went back to the kitchen to see if there was any way to salvage dinner. Sebastian seemed more than happy to answer his questions. "Yes, we dabble a little. Honestly, I never saw the point beyond healing spells before tonight. But what you did? That was amazing, incredible!" He sat on the edge of the bed, the picture of an eager kid. "I mean, you caught that fireball without a spell! How did you do that? And even before that—"

Finding nothing salvageable, Alistair came back. "How did you know that I shouldn't open the door?"

"Yes, that!"

"Oh. Err, well, I, I sensed their magic. It's a rather…distinctive feeling. I've grown used to the feeling." Merlin admitted sheepishly.

"Anything left for dinner?"

Alistair shook his head.

"Then we'll continue this conversation at the palace." Sebastian replied lightly, hopping to his feet.

"At, at the _palace_?" Merlin sputtered.

"Of course! We need to eat and there's no time, much less food, to make dinner again. Besides, father was expecting us back for a meeting tonight. Now we can go and get him off our backs."

"Your… father…" Merlin paled.

"The king." Alistair drawled, his lips twitching as though he fought a smile. "He happens to rule this country. In case you hadn't realized."

Merlin riled at that. "Of course I knew that!"

"Really? You seem rather slow at times so I wasn't sure." Alistair quipped back in an emotionless tone, although he really was fighting back a smile now.

Sebastian laughed merrily at the exchange and slung an arm around Merlin's shoulders. "Seems my brother does like you after all."

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

They brought him to the castle. The palace, as they called it. It seems that when they were little, they had a nursemaid from a distant land. Their father, the king, had bought her from slavers when her exotic beauty entranced him. She wore strange silk clothes, unlike anything the kingdom was accustom to seeing. She would tell them of her land when they were growing up, of the palaces much larger than their castle, and of the harems of women the the king owned. They loved pretending that they lived in the magical land she described. Merlin thought it didn't sound to bad, either. Sebastian kept him entertained with the stories she told and how they'd act them out on the way to the castle. He didn't have a chance to be afraid; they were already entering the kitchens before he had time to worry if he'd meet the king. He needn't worried. Alistair shed the coarse jacket and instructed the servants to tend to Merlin's needs, walking off with the haughty look accustom on most Crown Prince's faces. Sebs laughed and ruffled Merlin's hair before following after his brother, promising to tell him more stories when he got back.

Merlin blinked at their departure, so unlike what he was used to, and then noticed the curious gazes of the servants. He flushed, feeling flustered, but before he could even excuse himself, he was being shoved in a seat. The questions came rapid fire from all the servants. How did he know the princes? Were they always so friendly to him? How had he gotten in Prince Alistair's good graces? What stories had Prince Sebastian told him? He barely had a chance to answer one before four more were asked, all at once. He laughed, feeling dizzy from trying to keep up but enjoying the attention. Honestly, he missed this. He hadn't exactly _enjoyed_ being a servant, he knew he was meant for greater things, but he'd liked the camaraderie that being a servant granted him. Sneaking food from the kitchen and getting scolded by the good-natured cook; chatting with the stable hands as he mucked out the stables; encouraging the pages and squires; he missed all of that. Here, he was just a normal serf in their eyes. He wouldn't have to worry about the bullying, as he had when he was the Crown Prince's manservant. He wouldn't have to worry about turning down preferential treatment, either. They simply wanted to know what he knew, and for once, he gladly indulged in gossip.

* * *

When Sebastian and Alistair came back three hours later, they both were feeling worn and weary. Neither enjoyed the war meetings, and peace meetings were twice as drawing. They'd expected to find a nervous and distant Merlin when they returned. In fact, part of the reason they rushed to the kitchens as quickly as deemed acceptable was because they feared of taxing his good will. A former manservant to the king who'd been banished probably would hate the idea of being in another castle for very long. Instead, they found a few guards peeking inside the kitchen, having abandoned their posts to spy on the kitchen staff. Inside, loud babbling and laughter occasionally echoed before Merlin's voice would capture their attention. It had started with him telling them about Camelot. A few people had wanted to know where he was from. He mentioned Ealdor and growing up their. He told them he was a peasant they instantly denied it, saying his accent was much too noble. He finally relented to their questions and admitted he lived in Camelot for a time. That gained their awe and he began to describe the trek to the magnificent kingdom to his eager listeners. He talked about what Camelot was like, and when they questioned, he told them he worked in the castle there. He was careful to keep what his job was a secret but that gained demands to describe the servants there. He told of their attitudes, of the hierarchy which wasn't so much different than Mercia, and of the clothes. He described the ridiculous outfit that Arthur once made him wear. That description caused hoots of laughter, which brought curious guards. He'd been a bit shy of them at first, but when he described some of the more humorous punishments he received for mouthing-off (he never said to who) he noticed their amusement.

Glad for his captive audience, he lost himself in his stories. He didn't notice as more guards joined those at the door. Nor did he notice as the princes appeared behind them. The guards, when they finally noticed them, gave them a nervous look. Alistair appeared indifferent, but Sebastian grinned and motioned for them to continuing listening. They did, although they still threw the occasional speculative glance at them. Forgetting himself, Merlin began to describe bits and pieces of his life in Camelot in earnest. "…and then Arthur—"

A gasp of astonishment came from the scullery maid. "You called the King of Camelot by his _name._" She said in awe, looking at him with wide eyes.

Merlin flushed. "Oh, um, well I've called him worse things than that."

"Oh do tell, dearie! This is bound to be good!" The cook laughed, a merry woman who loved gossip and talking a bit too much.

"Well, like a clot pole or a prat or a…" He began to go down the list, not noticing the growing apprehension of the staff. "…and an idiot. Or an imbecile. I can't remember which. Perhaps both."

"But what would you have done if it reached his ears?" One guard asked, unable to contain himself.

Merlin waved off the concern, answering off-handedly. "Oh I said most of these to his face. The worst I think I got for it was a day in the stocks, and that was before I was his manservant."

There were several gasps and Sebastian couldn't contain a snort. Merlin continued, not understanding why everyone looked so shocked and awed by him all of a sudden. "Arthur was fine with most of it. He said he liked having a servant who wasn't _'boring'_ as he put it. Besides, he insulted me a great deal too."

"But you're a servant!" One of the under cooks exclaimed. "It's perfectly alright for a King to insult his servants."

"Why? Just because he's a king doesn't mean he shouldn't have any human decency." He argued.

Sebastian couldn't hold in his laughter and practically choked on it. All the servants looked at him, startled, and immediately began to scatter when they saw who it was. He came in, although Alistair remained in the hallway. He stood there, just beyond the door, staring intently at Merlin. Sebastian slung an arm around Merlin. "Merlin, you're a riot. That was beautiful." He laughed. "Calling the King of Camelot a _clot pole_. Brilliant."

"He wasn't the king then. He was just the Crown Prince." Merlin muttered, feeling he should be embarrassed but not quite sure why. That set Sebastian laughing again.

Alistair cleared his throat and instantly, the laughter died in Sebastian. He turned his attention to his brother, amusement still on his face, although his eyes were emotionless and distant. Later, Merlin would come to understand what that meant but for now, that look confused him. He looked back and forth between them. "Bring him." Alistair commanded and Sebastian gave Merlin a companionly squeeze before half-leading, half-dragging him from the kitchen. Glancing back over his shoulder, he gave the servants a nervous smile and then he was gone. He didn't know that for the next three days, whenever they whispered his name, it was in awe.

* * *

In the Prince's chambers, ten minutes later, Merlin looked at the brothers in confusion. Why were they grinning at him like that? "We listened to your story. I knew you were exiled from Camelot for the practice of magic, but were you really the King's manservant?" Sebastian grinned. In the background, Alistair prowled, pacing back and forth before the fire.

Merlin nodded hesitantly. "Yes… I was Arthur's manservant."

"And did you warm his bed as well?"

Merlin blinked at him in confusion. Alistair stopped his prowling to glare at Merlin. "Well, yes, I often made his bed. If there was a way to warm his bed in the winter, no one told me and Arthur never complained."

Sebastian snorted, covered his mouth and sent an apologetic look at his brother. Alistair glared at him and went back to pacing. Sebastian shook his head, chuckling. "No, no. Did you sleep with him?"

"Of course, when we were away from Camelot." Merlin replied, as if it were the natural thing in the world. "Usually, in the woods when the other knights weren't around. When they were, he'd huddle together with them so they'd be warm at night."

Another snort of laughter from Sebastian and this time, Alistair's glare was directed at him. Merlin didn't understand what was so funny. His mind refused to process what they might be trying to get at; it wasn't possible that they'd think of such a thing. His denial lasted only until the next question.

Straight out laughing now, Sebastian tried one last time. "Were you his lover?"

Merlin sputtered and choke on his response. His face flamed bright red. "What— What— Oh god, no— You couldn't— You've got to be— _We're both men!_" He finally choked out. "Men can't sleep together with other men."

"Yes they can." It was Alistair who spoke up and most of the humor dwindled from Sebastian, although there was still a spark.

Merlin, however, glared at him. He was still terribly mortified and embarrassed. "Okay, well if they can, I never learned about it! I was taught something—completely different…" He trailed off. He didn't want to be having this conversation.

"Then why didn't he kill you like so many other sorcerers?" This wasn't asked for amusement. This was the real question they'd been planning on getting at, Merlin realized.

He turned away from them, the fire, the light, not wanting to face the truth. "Because… Because it would be too painful for him to kill me, I suppose."

"And why's that?" Sebastian asked, still genuinely amused, although he wasn't mocking.

Merlin shook his head.

"Why?" Alistair demanded and Merlin winced. He recognized that tone. It wasn't a question, it was a demand from a future king to his subject for an explanation and there was no saying no.

Merlin sighed and his head drooped, although he kept it turned away. "Because… I'm his other half and he's mine." He seemed to wilt even further in on himself as he said this. He fought the tears but he knew if he kept talking, his voice would break and betray his emotions. He'd been denying it and denying but the truth was, Kilgharrah _hadn't_ lied. He couldn't hate Arthur, even if he wanted to, and he doubted Arthur could hate him. They were two sides of the same coin, two halves that made a whole, and now both were incomplete. He didn't see the startle look that Sebastian shot Alistair or how the future king turned away to stare into the fire. Sebastian cleared his throat awkwardly, no longer finding amusement in this situation.

"Why… Why do you say that?"

"It's my destiny. More than once, I've been told of this great and grand destiny, of how it was tangled up with Arthur's, of how we…" His voice broke and his head drooped further. "…we were two sides of the same coin. It's, it's always been like this, since the first day we met. I suppose I thought it always would be…but I was wrong."

"Destiny?" The prince's eyebrows scrunched up. "Then… It's not about your feelings?"

Merlin shook his head, and snorted. "Of course not. When I first met Arthur, I thought he was a prat and a prig and a selfish, spoiled brat. I wanted nothing to do with him."

Alistair continued to stare into the fire, his stormy expression slowly relaxing. The wheels and cogs turned in his head, formulating an idea. He half-listened, interested in the explanation, even as he worked on a solution to his current problem.

"But that changed?" Sebastian prompted when Merlin fell silent again.

Merlin nodded. In a quiet voice, he told them what he really thought of Arthur. He told them of his noble side, of his good heart, of what he thought of him as a king. He admitted that he didn't often tell Arthur what he thought. He wanted to push him to be better, and strangely, he seemed quite capable of doing just that. He told them of the teasing and laughter they shared, and how watching the brothers reminded him of that special relationship. He told them a little of how he helped and protected him, but here he fell silent again. He wasn't ready to admit all of what he'd done with magic. He couldn't even tell _Arthur_ all of what he'd done; how could he tell these two?

"And now?" Sebastian finally asked. "How do feel about him now?"

* * *

Merlin was silent for a long while. Finally, he looked at both brothers. Alistair turned around, as if sensing this was important. His blue eyes had dulled and had a distant look in them. "Arthur broke my heart. I…don't think I'll ever forget that."

Alistair stared at him for a moment. He turned away, looking out the window, before pacing once back and forth. He stopped before the fire and turned back to Merlin.

"Then stay here."

Merlin started as if waking from a dream and looked up at the Crown Prince. He'd never thought it before, but tonight, the way the firelight danced in his hair made him look every inch the future king he was to be. "What?"

"Stay here. I'm offering you a position as a servant in the castle. We can't, of course, make you anything more for the moment. Our father's lenient on the laws in regards to magic but he won't accept a sorcerer as apart of his court."

"What?"

"Brilliant idea, Ali!" Sebastian crowed happily and after flashing a brief grin at his brother, who never took his eyes off Merlin, he turned back to Merlin. "Yes, stay here with us. If we make you part of the court now, when Ali begins his reign the people will have already accepted you. You won't have to hide your magic, although it would be wise not to practice it openly or reveal how powerful you are, and we'll continue to protect you. Say you'll stay, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes hadn't left Alistair's anymore than the Crown Prince had looked away. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He blinked and finally looked down into the eager face of Sebastian, who was kneeling before him. Stay here? Could he stay? Did he _want_ to stay? Being a servant in a castle again, is that what he wanted? His eyes drifted up to Alistair's again, who was still staring at him with that stoic expression that expressed nothing of this thoughts.

"But… But what about Camelot? What about Arthur? Surely, when he hears, he won't be—"

"Poppycop on Arthur." Sebastian said with a rare amount of venom, standing. "He threw you away. I don't give a rat's ass how he feels about the matter."

Merlin winced at the all too accurate term but turned his gaze to Alistair, beseeching. He didn't want to cause them trouble. Surely he understood that.

He gave him a small nod. "I'll handle Arthur. If it makes you feel better, he doesn't have to know."

The relief was immediate and Merlin knew then, regardless of whether he would stay in the castle—palace, as they called it, he thought with a fond smile—he would stay. He _wanted_ to stay. He nodded slowly at first, although a great big grin spread across his face and his nodding quickened. "Yes. Yes, I'll stay."

Sebastian gave a woop and a laugh, spinning around the room in a happy, ridiculous little laugh.

Merlin tried to contain the prince's happiness. "I'm not saying I'll take on the role of a servant. I'll need a couple days to think about that. I'm not sure, maybe I could ply my hands at a trade instead—" He didn't think so. He might try for a position as an assistant to their court physician, though. Sebastian proclaimed he didn't care and dragged Merlin to his feet. His eyes caught the other prince and he was gratified to see a small, warm smile on Alistair's face. He would stay in Mercia. He would stay and perhaps, with time, he could forget about Camelot. Perhaps, with time, he could heal the wounds Arthur had dug so deep inside him. He would stay and Arthur would never have to know.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

The end of the third month since Merlin's banishment was drawing near when Arthur finally spoke his wife on the issue that was tugging on his heart. "Merlin…"

Gwen had just climbed into bed when the familiar name was whispered and her head turned to stare at Arthur in shock. She tried to school her features, to pretend she hadn't heard him break his own law. She wasn't able to and Arthur turned around, looking her as though he was lost. "I think…" His voice was thick with grief. "I think I need to look for Merlin."

Gwen wet her lips and found she had nothing to say. Her mind was completely blank. Slowly, she nodded, for lack of a better response. He came to the bed and sat on the edge, looking at her with pleading eyes, as if begging her to understand. "I need him, Gwen. I need Merlin. Oh god, I wish I didn't and maybe this a spell, some sort of enchantment he cast on me, but I want him back. I miss him so much. He was my… He was my friend." A hint of pain crept into his voice and tears glimmered, stubbornly unshed, in his eyes. "I need him back. Or, or I need to at least know he's alright. Him being gone, it feels so wrong and I, I just—"

Gwen reached out and caressed his cheek. "I know. I understand. Go. Find him."

Arthur nodded and gulped. Hesitantly, haltingly, he leaned forward and placed a small, chastise kiss on her lips. With loving care, he placed his head in her lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Don't leave me Gwen. Don't ever leave me." She'd never heard him sound so abandoned or lost. She knew in the morning, everything would be different. In the morning, he would pretend this never happened, as he had the last time he cried. He might even deny wanting to look for Merlin. He might pretend it didn't matter to him but she would deal with that in the morning. For now, she simply held him and coaxed him to bed. She would do her best to comfort him but for the first time, she begrudged Merlin for holding such an important threshold in her husband's heart. Later, she would feel guilty and vow never to envy nor hate him for that role he played. Later, she would wonder if he was equally as hurt as Arthur by his banishment. But that was later and right now, all that mattered to her was Arthur. Merlin could drown in a lake for all she cared, for hurting her husband like this.


	4. Aftermath - Month 5

**Author's Note:** It always made me happy when an author responded to the comments in the notes section, so I'm taking a moment to ask if you guys want me to do that as well. I'm going to add a few replies here, since I was planning on doing so anyway, but if you don't like it, just feel free to tell me to stop.

**_MoonlitIvy:_**_ Actually, your reaction is exactly the reaction I was hoping for when I was writing the Tristan scene. As odd as it may sound, I'm glad people are getting a little annoyed at the characters, especially Arthur. Tristan is there to smack some sense into the characters for you though, so don't feel too bad._

_**ruby890:**__ I was surprised to hear of your outrage toward Gwen. I didn't think a whole lot of people would notice that. I just have this mental image that Gwen isn't always as nice as she appears-or maybe I'm just a jerk and don't like her. But don't worry, that will probably be the last time she's a jerk to Merlin!_

As I just posted the new chapter, I haven't got a whole lot of reviews yet. I might address more comments later. Also, _**thanks to everyone who asked for updates!**_ A little bit of a teaser for you… This will be a short chapter for you but once it's done, I have a message for you about chapters to come at the end.

* * *

It had taken time. It took nearly a month after his fight with Gwaine to convince Tristan to stay in Camelot. He wanted to leave the next day but the knights locked him up in the barracks. Leon and Percival pleaded with the king to convince him to stay but Arthur wouldn't hear of it. He claimed they had no right to keep a man in Camelot against his will. Arthur claimed it was against everything Camelot stood for–Gwaine claimed he was addle-brained from spending too much time with nobles and had no idea what he was talking about. Unable to do anything else, the knights were forced to release the one man capable of reviving them in Merlin's absence. Despite their attempts and their supplications, Tristan was gone by the end of the week. For the better part of the next three weeks, the knights did so many boarder sweeps, that if Arthur was paying attention to anything besides fighting against his conscious, he would have thought there might be a war on his hands. The "sweeps" paid off however. Just before the end of the forth month, Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival brought Tristan back to Camelot.

Not even a fortnight later, Arthur finally relented to his conscious. He summoned his knights to his chambers for a private conversation, threatening that anyone who should be caught listening in would be put to death. The threat worked and not even the lowliest of servants dared to go by the room, for fear of being suspected of eavesdropping. During the private meeting, Arthur assigned the Knights of the Round Table a special mission. He wanted them to look for Merlin. He made it clear he had no plans of _pardoning_ Merlin but he wanted him found. It would be enough if they brought back a report of where he was currently and how he was doing. He would make some sort of excuse for them, to explain their absences, so they only needed to concern themselves with finding Merlin.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

"Argh!"

"What happened? How did this occur?" Arthur demanded as he rushed with his knights to Gaius's chambers.

"We were doing one last routine sweep around the city before we left on our, erm, mission, sire," Sir Leon began before another scream cut him off. He was trying to be discrete, since other knights had been involved in the patrols.

"Agh, augh!"

"Calm down!" Gaius returned. "I need to remove the rest of the arrow shaft!"

"Bandits." Sir Donald panted, tired from the long hurried ride home and having to run here and there ever since he got back. "There were bandits, sire, and they ambushed us. We managed to defeat them but one shot Gwaine in the back."

Sebelin stumbled into them, rushing to enter the chambers. He imparted idiotic entreaties for forgiveness, which irritated Arthur. Was he an imbecile? Now was no time to offering apologizes. He gave him a dismissive wave and like a good servant, he melted away, rushing into the physician's chambers. He shut the door behind him, or tried to, but it opened slightly and Gwaine's screams echoed throughout the halls.

"The fever is setting in already! There must have been some poison on the arrow shaft after all. Sebelin, did you get those herbs I asked of you–good lad. Make a proper potion now whilst I try to contain him."

Sebelin quickly attended to the task. Arthur noted that while he was quite competent, he would have preferred to have clumsy Merlin somehow dolling out the proper amounts and then knocking things over in his haste to give the antidote to Gaius. It would have been comforting, to see such a familiar scene. Instead, Sebelin finishes the potion, hands it over to Gaius and resumes his nervous glances at the King and his Noblesse knight. "How is he, Gaius?" The king asked, entering the chamber. The words were hardly out of his mouth before someone bodily shoved him aside and came into the room. To his surprise, it was Tristan.

"I found more herbs, Gaius." He told the physician, studiously ignoring everything else, from Arthur's presence to Gwaine's screams to Sebelin's anxious glances. "Shall I make that paste I was telling you about?"

"Yes, yes. Hurry, please, Tristan! Leon, hold Gwaine down. If he starts thrashing again, I'll do more damage than good yanking the shaft out." Gaius barked, better than any general could instruct his troops. He instructed Leon where and how to hold Gwaine before throwing Arthur an irritated glare and shooing him to the side with a wave of his hand. Sebelin immediately appeared fluttering by his side with supplications for him to be quiet, for him to leave, for his highness to return another time and generally doing a better job at annoying him rather than making him willing to leave.

"Sebelin, shut up." Arthur commanded and the poor servant had no choice but to obey. Merlin wouldn't have been so stupid. He would have told Arthur off and demanded for him to come back another time. Merlin had more of a spine than this little worm. He turned his attention back to Gaius. "Gaius! Gaius, how is–"

"Unless you are going to help me tend to him, will you kindly _get out_ and let me _work in peace,_ Sire?" Gaius snapped, not once looking up from his patient. He was slowly working the shaft out. Ripping it out would only cause more lacerations and internal bleeding, something he didn't want. However, if he worked carefully enough, he might be able to quickly pull out the arrow in nearly the same path it went in.

Sir Donald escorted King Arthur out of the room. There was more screams, shouts from Gaius for Sebelin to hurry up and make the damn potion to numb the pain, with Tristan's quiet voice somehow cutting through the din in the background. Somehow, he seemed to be assisting Gaius quite well. Arthur would have to look into that at a later date. Five minutes later, Sir Leon was also kicked out of the room, panting and hands shaking a little. There was a fine sheen of sweat upon his brow and when he swiped it, a small smear of blood transferred from his hands to his face. When Arthur mentioned it, he looked at his hand in confusion. There shouldn't have been any blood on it. His hands weren't anywhere near the arrow wound.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Hours later, Gaius finally came out to address those in the corridor. The only reason he remembered their presence at all was because the maid he'd sent to get a bucket of water had mentioned them upon her return. Sebelin was now using that bucket of water to clean up. Tristan was making sure Gwaine could sleep comfortably through the night on his stomach. They'd been arguing over the best position to not upset his wound, both looking exhausted, ready to pass out, and incredibly stubborn when Gaius left. He took a look at the exhausted knights in the corridor, who'd been at attention since he left them out here nearly 17 hours earlier.

"The arrow would has been taken care of, Sire. We also found a deep sword wound just above it. Somehow, it managed to slice clear through the chain mail. I believe the sword in question was enchanted, which might explain why the wound wasn't noticed immediately. It took some time to patch it up, as we noticed it late and it was nearly as dangerous as the poisonous arrow."

"Will he be alright?" Arthur asked, concern leaking through his tight voice. Seventeen hours was a long time to wait for an update. Of course, it meant that now he has the whole story on what happened during the patrol. It didn't sound like a simple bandit attack to him and his knights were beginning to think the same thing, as they'd gone over it again and again, rehashing every last little detail. That was a matter that could wait to be addressed at a later date. Now, the only thing he needed to focus on was Gwaine's recovery.

Gaius hesitated, choosing his words carefully before he spoke. "It will be a long recovery, Sire. The superficial damage may heal within a few weeks but I fear…" He trailed off and it took all the strength he could muster to continue. "I fear he will not be able to use that arm the same again."

The news sent Arthur reeling. He remained stationary, of course, but it suddenly felt like the world was spinning beneath his feet. His mind tried to wrap around the fact that Gwaine was alright, that he would live, but it couldn't. He dry swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling as if it were filled with sand, and tried to speak. He barely managed to croak out the words. "Must I retire him from his knighthood so early, Gaius?" His voice sounded strange to his ears, eerily calm, and he knew that Merlin would have made a comment on it if he were here.

Instead, Gaius merely shook his head. "No. He can still be a knight. With proper measures taken, he'll be able to fight with his arm again. However, I'm afraid he can't go on the…quest you are currently sending your other knights on. He must remain here, in Camelot, to heal. I would request that Tristan remain as well. I believe he will be a great aide, both in Gwaine's recovery and to myself."

"Very well then." Arthur nodded, numb from the news. He turned and without dismissing anyone, walked away. He heard Sir Leon start after him and Gaius restrain him with softly spoken words.

"Give him time. The King has just received a shock. He needs time to be alone, to grieve for his fallen comrade."

"Then all the more reason for me to be by his side!" Sir Leon argued and if Arthur had heard the response, he probably would have hugged Gaius for his understanding.

The old man shook his head and watched the Future King disappear around the corner. "No. As your King, he must never show his weakness or his emotions before anyone. It has been engrained in him since he was a boy to be strong for his knights, for his people. Now, he wishes to embrace the turmoil in his heart, the conflicting emotions overriding him. Give him the right to do that much, Leon. Give him the right."

Sir Leon's brow furrowed but slowly he nodded his head. Conflict warred in his eyes as he stared after where his King had been, wanting to go after him so he could protect him by his side. Instead, he held his ground, locking his muscles in place so he wouldn't shame the King by catching him with his guard down.

Sir Donald looked between the two of them and then glanced back to where King Arthur had been. He was a young knight, only recently awarded the position. His words, however, shocked the two older men, for he had watched the Crown Prince as a squire. "It's too bad that servant got banished, the one with the funny name. If he were here, he'd probably be chasing him down. They always seemed to be together, no matter what."

Sir Leon shot him a sharp glance and Sir Donald cringed, murmuring his apologizes for speaking out of turn. Excusing himself, he went to attend to his post. He waited until he was gone before the knight turned to the old physician. "He wasn't incorrect. Merlin would have chased after Arthur."

Gaius nodded slowly. "And Arthur would have let him. He would have let Merlin follow him, and while he would not have embraced his grief completely, he would have still showed it."

"What's the difference between that and this?"

"Merlin's only desire, Leon, was to be by Arthur's side. He didn't care about anything else. Instinctively, Arthur knew that. Whether he ever acknowledged it or not, in his heart, he knew that."

The knight gave the physician a sharp look but he returned it with a look of years of wisdom. "And now?" He asked shrewdly. "Now that Merlin can no longer have that wish, what will become of him?"

Gaius suddenly looked old, older than Leon had ever seen him, and he had the urge to guide him to a chair. A pained look crossed his features and he shook his head. "Now, Leon, my boy will never be the same. Without a purpose to his life, what man could be?"

* * *

**Final notes: **I'm not sure anyone will get what I'm saying when I called Leon the "Noblesse" but it's an important status. I'm taking this meaning from the series _Noblesse_ where it's not just a way of acting, but an actual status. Unlike the manga (which is awesome and not related to this at all) it isn't a power status but rather a station as head knight.

And now for the update I promised you. Congratulations! I'm sure you'll be glad to know that after this chapter, things are about to pick up quite a bit-both in and out of the story. I have everything written up so I'm just typing up the next four chapters. They'll be out soon, promise! ^^


	5. Aftermath - Month 6

_**hawthorneash13:**_ I want to thank you personally for your review! You have no idea how much that meant to me! Thank you!

_**angeleyenc:**_ Arthur is a prat but he seems to be realizing he does need Merlin now. ;) Thankfully, Arthur kept his pratness out of this last chapter.

_**SpanaHana:**_ I'm so glad you liked Gaius's little speech in the last chapter. Thanks so much for your review!

_**ruby890:**_ I will try to update as quickly as I can. Unfortunately, I went a little overboard in writing so there's over 20 pages left that need to be typed up. ^^;; Please be patient with me. Hope you like this newest update!

And thank you to all you Guests who reviewed! It means a lot to me that you like my story :)

* * *

Recap:

_Chapter 3: Merlin tried to contain the prince's happiness. "I'm not saying I'll take on the role of a servant. I'll need a couple days to think about that. I'm not sure, maybe I could ply my hands at a trade instead—" He didn't think so. He might try for a position as an assistant to their court physician, though. Sebastian proclaimed he didn't care and dragged Merlin to his feet. His eyes caught the other prince and he was gratified to see a small, warm smile on Alistair's face. He would stay in Mercia. He would stay and perhaps, with time, he could forget about Camelot. Perhaps, with time, he could heal the wounds Arthur had dug so deep inside him. He would stay and Arthur would never have to know._

_Chapter 4: Instead, Gaius merely shook his head. "No. He can still be a knight. With proper measures taken, he'll be able to fight with his arm again. However, I'm afraid he can't go on the…quest you are currently sending your other knights on. He must remain here, in Camelot, to heal. I would request that Tristan remain as well. I believe he will be a great aide, both in Gwaine's recovery and to myself."_

End of Recap.

* * *

In Mercia, Merlin was completely oblivious to his former best friend's fate or the order to find him. Had he known, it would have caused him more worry than good. Yet no vision assailed him, no passing druid told him of the goings within Camelot. Instead, he'd spent the last month trying to figure out just _what kind _of servant he wanted to be. The _last_ thing he wanted to be was another servant to the Crown Prince. He still remembered the stand-offish attitude of the servants back in Camelot. He'd received a lot of grief simply for being favored by Arthur, which had been a huge mark against the prince in the beginning. He didn't want that feeling hanging over his new found friends. He thought about trying his hand at a trade in the market square but really, the idea was laughable. He'd make a lousy blacksmith and he no longer had the patience to work in the fields to bring in vegetables to sell. Not that he ever really had that patience, come to think of it, even when it was just so they'd have something to eat. It was harder than he thought, as well, to apply for the role as physician assistant. It wasn't just because of the fond memories he was afraid of banishing by taking the role; he was surprised to find he didn't _qualify_ as a physician's assistant. Oh sure, he certainly _knew_ enough but he'd need more practice in the way of bandaging and making remedies and other tasks. One look at the greasy smile of the current physician's assistant, whom he'd have been tutored under, he excused himself and ran.

So finally, after much debate and several failed attempts to find another lot in life, he agreed to become a servant in the Mercia castle. He expected wariness and suspicion. Instead, the servants were delighted to have him back. He was quickly accepted into their ranks, although he became somewhat of a mascot and an errand runner, and he learned new things every day. Finally, he'd found a niche, a place where he belonged. His heart ached a little to have _here_ what he couldn't have in Camelot but he tried to lay that issue to rest. As he was a country boy at heart, something that being Arthur's manservant never quite beat out of him, he found the chance to chat with the servants and simply spend time swapping tales almost nostalgic. It was so similar at times to his village and how close everyone was that if it weren't for the accents and the almost noble speech, he could feel truly at home. Even still, he wasn't going to be treated as a normal servant no matter where he was.

At the end of the day, he wasn't allowed to rest. Instead, he'd be called to the kitchen to regale the servants and the guards with tales of Camelot and it's King. Despite the occasional pain that caused his heart, those were the times he enjoyed most. He could ham it up, tell them everything without holding back because of his magic, and most only looked at him in awe. There were the select few who viewed him with distrust, disdain and even fear but most just found his tales of trying to wash twenty pieces of armor at once and study magic hilarious. Especially when he added in the bits where he was caught by Gaius and was throughly chided; they loved that. He'd get a few stories told before he was called for by the princes, to bring them their dinner and then he'd stay to talk with them about their day. Although the friends were no longer as close as before, Merlin's friendship still thrived with the princes.

Rumor quickly spread through the ranks. This new servant had been the _manservant_ of the _King of Camelot_ and he used _magic._ Intrigue ran rampant, which amused the princes as they listened to all the possible reasons and explanations for why Merlin was only banished and not executed, as the king was famous for doing. They ranged from the two having a secret, torrid love affair to Merlin threatening to turn him into a donkey for life if he wasn't released. Regardless of what explanation the servants bought into, they seemed to think it was good fun trying to coax Merlin to do magic. However, the young warlock was cautious and knew better enough then to use his magic recklessly here. Aside from the occasional parlor trick he used to entertain, he rarely used it at all, not even for his chores. Instead, he secretly practiced it at night, usually in the company of the princes. This also led to rumors as the servants wondered if he was teaching them magic. Merlin was just glad they didn't suspect him of trying to enchant them.

This was another area in which he was not just a normal servant. Although he generally worked in the kitchen or ran errands for whichever guard or servant needed help, delighting in the fact he could now slack off and take time to chat with the servants, every time the princes went out he was required to accompany them. It didn't matter if they were going in disguise for a simple trip to the market. He had to be in attendance, although he was allowed to roam as he pleased and usually took the opportunity to run errands he needed to do in the lower town when this occurred. He didn't understand the necessity of this until the day they were attacked. It should have been a day like any other. He'd just finished running for the cook to the nearest market stall to tell him the price of the freshest chicken. The woman seemed to find it hilarious he had a few feathers in his hair when he drawled he was _quite sure_ they were fresh. Living chickens were not his thing he informed her, which made her laugh. Then Alistair walked in, dressed in ragged pants and a slightly beat up, faded and smudged shirt that was once supposed to be white but was instead a dusty grayish tan. Merlin gave him an irritated glance, knowing what he wanted.

It should have been a routine outing. Certainly, there had been nothing to give away the danger of the situation. The disguises on the princes were the best Merlin had seen yet. Sebastian's hair was mussed up, some mud having been smeared on the side at one point, as if he'd pushed his hair out of his face and forgotten his hand was dirty. His clothes looked worn, frequently used, the same as Alistair's. Overkill, if you asked him. He didn't understand their wariness. Sure, he'd grown used to such defensiveness in Camelot but he'd seen no reason thus far for Mercia to hold the same principals. It was not as if they were constantly besieged with magical attacks as Arthur and his countrymen had been; probably still were, with him gone. No, the only appeared to have mundane attacks, with the magical fireball incident being the apparent exception to the rule. Or, at least, that's what he'd begun to think. In reality, he had no idea how much was shielded from him. Court intrigue was kept from his ears in regards to attacks or danger to the princes by their royal order. Also by royal order was that any news of Camelot, with the exception of a few mundane details, was to be strictly kept from him. It was forbidden to tell him any of the comings and goes of their neighboring kingdom. He was sheltered from the gossip of how Camelot seemed to somehow be faring much worse of late and how the past few months had taken it's toll on the fair king. And any magical attacks on the kingdom, in Mercia, were played down for his sake. The servants found these strange orders just another reason to gossip amongst themselves so they took to following them with gusto.

That day, however, there had been a traitor in their midst. When Alistair fetched Merlin, one of the younger kitchen helpers stole away to tell his older brothers. He'd been requested to tell them any time the princes came to fetch Merlin but today was the first time he was able to sneak away and tell them. He described their clothes, never once questioning why his brothers wished to know this information. He was a young boy, just past his eighth winter. He was hoping to prove himself worthy of being a page one day. He didn't understand his brothers' plan or surely he would have tried to stop them. As it was, when he questioned why they wanted this information, they hit and beat him. He was not thanked for his trouble, though he was the one who would get in trouble and pay dearly for sneaking away from the kitchens. He learned that day the cruelty of the hearts of men. How he would take the double betrayal his brothers' dealt him, both in beating him and in their plan to attack the princes he'd sworn loyalty to, is another story. All his four bothers needed to know had just been laid at their feet. They set their plan in motion, hurrying toward the market place. Thankfully, the boy had never gotten around to describing Merlin or telling them how powerful he was; if he had, they would have been much more cautious and more likely to succeed.

Merlin wasn't aware of any of this. He was bitterly regretting that the princes wanted to go on an outing, as Sebs teased him mercilessly for the feathers in his hair. He was told he must have an affinity to chickens, which would explain their explosive reaction to him. Every time he came near a pen of chickens, the birds freaked, trying to fly away and generally making a rather loud ruckus. The warlock rolled his eyes, opened his mouth to make a tart remark back–and froze. He felt a wave of power spike and then hide itself in the crowd. He swiveled around, trying to pinpoint the feeling. Magic, there was powerful magic nearby. It wasn't just one sorcerer, there were multiple. He couldn't get an exact lock on the hidden power, so instead, he tried to focus on how many there were. Two, three… Four. Four sorcerers, all hiding nearby, magic ready to be summoned. He tensed and he felt the princes react to him. Alistair instantly became alert while Sebastian's body tensed slightly. He kept his voice light, though, and kept on teasing him as if nothing was wrong. He could hear the slight strain in his voice though. They knew something was wrong but they didn't know what. They didn't understand the danger they were in. Marlin reacted on instinct, as he might have in Camelot. His whole body and all his senses searched out the threat. He had to protect them. He was not a fighter and he disliked violence but what Merlin did have was the heart of a protector.

He felt a surge of power to his left and without thinking, his hand flew out toward it. A man was thrown back, flying through a door and into a house. At the same time, he took a stance in front of both princes even as they drew their swords. He suddenly had everyone's attention but he didn't care. He hadn't been sure at first that he'd hit the right man until he felt three powers surge in response. Suddenly, he was facing three sorcerers and he looked at their grim, determined expressions. He felt the fourth power spike and the final sorcerer, the one he'd thrown, stepped out of he ruined house. He joined his brothers, for they all looked alike despite varying ages. Merlin's jaw tightened. This was not going to pretty. He stepped forward, ready to take anything they could throw at him.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

In Camelot, Gwaine's shoulder was healing nicely. Or rather, it _would_ be, if he let it rest for more than a couple days. Instead, when he found out he must be left behind on the quest to find Merlin, he tried to chase after the other knights. In his half-delirious state, he couldn't even make it out of the castle, much less be of any help searching for the warlock. That didn't matter to him though. Tristan had to physically drag him back to the physician's room on several occasions. The mild sedatives that Gaius gave him only did so much good. Within a day or two of them wearing off, he would be back insisting he should be on the quest. Gaius feared what giving him too much sedative would do but soon began to think that perhaps that was the only way to get him to see sense. What else could he do when the knight would not listen to anything anyone else had to say? He had been right, however, in telling Arthur that Tristan would be a great aide to himself and to Gwaine's recovery. When the knight had run off for the eighth time and seemed intent on adding a ninth to the list, the former smuggler had finally had enough. He'd had to comfort too many people who were worried sick over his health and the man in question didn't seem to understand that.

So he slapped him, hard, across the face. It was a fit of anger and he regretted the slap, although not the attention it garnered. "Quit being so damn selfish! Why can't you think about those around you?"

"I am thinking of others! I'm think of the knights on their quest and how they'll _need me_ to find Merlin! I know Merlin better than anyone else. I'll be able to spot him in a crowd faster and I read people's lies better than most of the knights! What if they miss something because I'm not there?"

"And what good will you do Merlin if you ride into a camp in your current state? You'll give him a heart attack! Not to mention he'll probably do everything in his power to heal you with his magic. As you are now, you would be more of a detriment that an asset to helping recover Merlin! Why don't you focus on getting better so you can actually _help_ Merlin, instead of being just a burden?"

And miracle of miracles, Gwaine listened. He actually listened to Tristan's words, digesting the truth in them. If Merlin was weakened, Merlin who was so helpless in the knights eyes even with his magic, he would be in danger. The last thing he wanted was to put Merlin in harm's way. So he lay there for the next two days, allowing Gaius to bandage the wound he'd managed to open up _yet again_ in his last failed escape attempt. He dealt with the chiding and the fussing over him, the bored and the aches that pained him. When cabin fever struck and he began to feel as if he would go mad staying stuck in doors, he begged Gaius to give him some sort of task to do, even if it was one-handed. The physician hesitated but Tristan stepped in, understanding his need. He gave him small tasks to take care of, menial cleaning responsibilities that could easily be done with one hand. And so, Gwaine was finally on the mend. With luck, by the next month he could be working on gathering up his strength in his arm again.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

The sorcerer incident was cleaned up rather nicely in Mercia. Merlin managed to subdue two of the four sorcerers. The eldest brother was killed by Prince Sebastian when he charged at the Crown Prince. The last, Alistair managed to subdue himself. A trial was held and they were allowed to defend themselves but the sorcerers would give nothing up. Not their reasons for attacking, nor who put them up to it, for it was clear they were hired to do the task. The youngest brother was found, lying beaten in an alley, and the attempted murder of a servant of the castle was added to their many charges. During the entire trial, Merlin was surprised that he didn't see the king even once. When he asked Sebs about it, he replied that their father expected them to handle the trial and punishment of such crimes on their own so long as they had caught onto the plot. Had their father heard of it before them, even if _they_ were to stop the assassination, he would have proceeded over the trial in their stead. It was interesting to see how differently Mercia handled such cases as opposed to Camelot. Merlin wasn't sure if Arthur would have been so understanding or willing to listen if a sorcerer had tried to kill him. He certainly wouldn't have held a trial. Instead, he would have just had them executed, as his father would have done.

In the end, the result was much the same. With no explanation as to why they did it or who hired them, the sorcerers were considered a threat to the kingdom. Added to the fact that they showed no compassion toward their youngest brother or remorse for anything they'd done. They were executed a day later via beheading. At least, Merlin thought as he watched sadly as the prisoners were led to their fate, they wouldn't have to deal with the torture of being burned at the stake. He could think of no worse fate. He closed his eyes as the three executioners raised their axes and waited until he heard the thud of the axes' fall. Slowly, he opened his eyes and stared at the grisly scene. The townspeople turned away, going back about their business but he continued to stand there, staring at the bodies. He jumped a little when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder. He turned guilty eyes to look into teal ones. Alistair nodded once to him before he glanced at the corpses.

"There is nothing you could have done to change this story. Their fate was sealed when they attacked you."

Merlin nodded slowly but that didn't lessen the guilt that he had played a role in their deaths. Instead, he focused on something else. "What will happen to the boy?"

"He'll be banished from the kingdom." Sebastian replied, coming around his other side to lead him away from the horrid sight. "We can't risk that he will plot revenge."

Merlin instantly protested this. "Revenge? His brothers beat information out of him and then threw him under the carriage, so to speak, at their trial. The last thing on his mind right now will be revenge. If you banish him, however, you'll only foster hate at his mistreatment here."

"What would you have us do?" Alistair asked in a quiet voice.

Merlin floundered and then came up with the perfect solution. "Let me take him under my wing. I'll teach him about magic and help him grow."

The brothers exchanged a long glance, communicating without words on their thoughts on the matter. After a moment, Alistair broke away first and headed to the castle. Sebastian grinned and clapped Merlin on the back. "Congratulations! You just got your first apprentice!"


	6. Aftermath - Month 7 Part 1

**Author's Notes:**

I'm glad that Merlin taking an apprentice went over so well. I was honestly a bit worried that people would find it lame. ^^;; But you all seem excited about him, and I'm glad. Especially since I actually didn't plan on him being the apprentice. He was originally just supposed to fade into the background, but we all know Merlin. He has too big of a heart to let that happen.

Also, it's briefly examined in this chapter but in future chapters, would you like me to show more of Merlin training his apprentice?

_**cflat**__: Yes, you learn the name of the boy in this chapter ^^ You will also get a small peek at Merlin attempting to train him. As to Camelot figuring out where Merlin is, that's mentioned briefly in here as well._

_**TN Sarah**__: Here's a bit of how the brothers approach Merlin. The second part will have more of that as well._

And thank you all for reviewing! _**WRose**__, __**ruby890**__, __**Felicity P**__, __**angeleyenc**__, __**ladopa**__, __**readernurse**__, _and_** hawthorneash13**__!_ I didn't forget about you guys but I_ finally finished_ and wanted to post this as quickly as possible. Sorry for the delay, I lost the outline for a bit, then my hours got changed to ridiculousness and after the little trip I had to the hospital last week… Well, let's just say I'm running behind on a lot of things. But I'm already working on Part 2, so I hope to have that out quicker!

* * *

**Recap:**

_Merlin floundered and then came up with the perfect solution. "Let me take him under my wing. I'll teach him about magic and help him grow."_

_The brothers exchanged a long glance, communicating without words on their thoughts on the matter. After a moment, Alistair broke away first and headed to the castle. Sebastian grinned and clapped Merlin on the back. "Congratulations! You just got your first apprentice!"_

End of Recap.

* * *

"Gaius, how is he doing?" Arthur asked for the umpteenth time. Gaius had a strong urge to whack him on the nose with a rolled up parchment the way you would an unruly puppy. Certainly, Arthur seemed in desperate need of retraining ever since Merlin left. How his former apprentice had managed to keep Arthur in line and almost decent to most people was a mystery to him. If he'd known he had a tendency to be this bad to the young warlock, pestering him for answers and generally getting in his way at the most inconvenient of times, he would have teased him less about it. But his king was like a dog with a bone, he would not let the subject go no matter how many times the physician reassured him on the subject. With a sigh, Gaius turned back to the expectant king.

"Why don't you come and check on him yourself, sire?"

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Merlin looked at the young boy tottering after him. When he decided to take Aiden on as an apprentice, it had been more a whim than an actual thought-through plan. He could hear Gaius, Arthur, even his mother all chiding him for his carelessly spoken words. Now he was responsible for the boy. Aiden looked up and gave Merlin a toothy grin. He couldn't help grinning back. He was still losing some of his baby teeth, so he was missing two on the top, but it gave him a lovable, adorable quality. He had no idea how he was going to go about this. What did he know about training a sorcerer? He was still learning himself. Yet he'd taken the boy under his wing and when that bruised little face looked up at him, he knew it was a good choice.

He turned to the boy and beckoned him over to his side. "Come here."

The little boy scampered over to his side, a little ball of nervous energy and eagerness. Merlin's crooked smile looped up a little at the boy's enthusiasm. He had this loveable quality about him; something Merlin imagined had to do with his too-large eyes and his dimpled cheeks. He'd often heard how his ears, which were only a _tad_ larger than most people despite how many people had commented on them, gave him an extra quality. Not that he would ever call himself _'loveable'_ of course but they certainly added character. He hoped that Aiden would at least be able to avoid the teasing he'd endured as a child and the good-natured ribbing he continued to endure even now. He reached out, biting his lip a little when the child flinched, and slowly ruffled his hair. Aiden chewed his upper lip, looking abashed for the flinch, and ducked his head a little in what Merlin assumed was an apology. He had yet to hear him speak and was beginning to wonder if the boy was mute.

"How about this, Aiden?" He asked, kneeling before the boy. "I don't know much about teaching magic since I'm still learning myself but I do know a lot about practicing. Why don't we practice together?" When the little boy continued to stare at him with wide eyes, which seemed to be growing larger in his little face, Merlin hurried on to explain. He didn't want him to think that he was trying to pass off his responsibilities. He really did mean to train him; he just didn't know any other method. "I'll teach you some of the basic spells I know first, of course. And we can just learn the rest of it together.

The little boy let out a small gasp, his eyes growing rounder as they widened further. "Be… Be your _equal_ sir?" He asks in a timid voice. "I could never be your equal, sir!"

"You don't need to call me 'sir' Aiden." Merlin laughed, ruffling his hair a little. The boy seemed to enjoy the gesture, cheeks flushing slightly with the pleasure of a boy rarely shown affection. "You can call me Merlin."

He gave a startled squeak and furiously shook his head. "No sir! I couldn't do that, sir!"

"Why not?"

He leaned forward and in a hushed tone, whispered to Merlin. "But you're _Emyrs_ sir. _The_ Emyrs."

"How do you know that name?" Merlin wondered aloud. True, that was what the druids called him but this boy wasn't a druid.

"It's your magic, sir. You practically _breathe_ it. If it's not too impudent to say, sir, my magic _thrums_ when you're around. It takes a while to figure out it is _you_ cause I can feel such a large and awesome power, sir, but you don't appear all that imposing." He flushed, instantly worried he'd offended him. He hurriedly finished what he was saying. "Anyway, everything in your magic says who you are. Emyrs."

Merlin stared at the small magic user in alarm. "Have you always known I was Emyrs?" True, he'd let down his guard here more than he had in Camelot but he still wasn't used to openly embracing his magic. It had become habit to hide his magic, to use it to the bare minimum and in small, seemingly meaningless acts. He didn't want to think that he was proclaiming who he was, that he was Morgana's enemy, and drawing attention to himself.

Aiden shook his head fanatically. "No, sir. When you're hiding it, I can feel the faint traces of magic but it doesn't call attention. It just feels like there was a sorcerer nearby recently. When you use your power, though, even for the smallest of things, I can tell. It's who you are, sir. You _are_ Emyrs." He'd known before his brothers attacked who Merlin was; what he was capable of but he hadn't thought to warn them. After all, he was _Emyrs_, the one destined to unite the lands and create Albion. Why would any magic user want to harm him? Stories were told of him, although his name had never been mentioned. Aiden had no doubt it was Merlin, however. He'd felt his magic; he knew for sure it had to be him. After all, who else but Emyrs was that powerful, that great?

At least he wasn't drawing attention to himself. "I already told you, Aiden. You can call me Merlin." The 'sirs' were beginning to make him twitch a little.

"I, I couldn't do that, sir!" Aiden instantly protested again.

Merlin sighed as he looked at the boy. This was going to take a lot of work, starting with getting him to call him by his name.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

"Are you doing better, Gwaine?" Arthur asked, not hesitantly for a king was never hesitant, but with a mild uncertainty expected of those unused to being around the unwell.

Gwaine grunted in response. "I would heal a lot faster if you would convince Gaius I'm well enough to be out on the training field, _sire._" There was a certain amount of venom that wasn't directed solely at the physician. In his incapacitation, he's had plenty of time to think things over. One thing he's sure of is right now; he's fairly certain he hates Arthur for banishing Merlin. He might be his king but he's starting to have second thoughts about being a knight. Still… He changed his mind; he seems to want Merlin back. Perhaps Arthur won't be such a prick. Perhaps he can change.

Meanwhile, the physician overheard the glib at him and _tutted_ in response. "You could be out on the training field a lot faster if you would work on those muscle exercises I asked you to do!"

"They are pointless and they make me look ridiculous! I'm not doing them!"

"You look equally ridiculous just sitting there doing nothing." A new voice drawled.

The King noticed Gwaine's sheepish glance at the door and turned. To his surprise, leaning in the doorway was Tristan. He had some herbs in hand and was currently blocking Sebelin's path inside. Typical. He just _had_ to make some sort of flashy entrance, couldn't do anything the _normal_ way. He could feel the bitterness invading his thoughts but he didn't try to fight it. He couldn't stand how easily _his knight_ had turned to this man, how he'd come to rely on him for inner strength and guidance in his time of need. He was King. If anything, his knights should be relying on _him_ in any circumstance. He was supposed to be the one holding the kingdom together. Never mind that he wouldn't know the first thing about helping care for Gwaine's wounds. He could learn, in time. Damn it, why hadn't Merlin taught him some of these things? He could hear the warlock's response in the back of his head, that drawling slightly cultured tone that never quite lost it's country hick accent. _"You wouldn't have wanted to learn, admit it. If I tried to teach you, you would've ignored everything I said. Besides, isn't it a little arrogant to think that you alone were holding this kingdom together?"_

_"Like you're one to talk."_ Arthur muttered under his breath. He tried not to glare at the vagabond. Well, he would start taking his cues from Tristan then. He'd follow what he was doing and figure out how he was raising his knight's spirits.

"Tristan! Finally, a voice of reason." Gwaine breathed in relief. "Tell Gaius to quit being a mother hen. You know as well as I that I'm well enough to be back on the training field."

Tristan shifted, stepping inside and finally letting Sebelin stumble in after him. The servant really did seem like an idiot at times, although he was much more capable then Merlin. Perhaps it was because of this that there was something that seemed off about him. He did his work _too_ well, without error, similar to some sort of mechanical device. No human should be _that_ efficient. It wasn't right, it was somehow…_wrong_, although it was hard to explain why anyone would feel that way. Shouldn't a King want a servant who worked efficiently, who didn't make mistakes, who was almost perfect in every way? Sure, he was a little nervous and he tended to trip over words in the presence of nobles, but everything else he did was with a mechanical perfection. His thoughts on the matter were disrupted as Tristan responded.

"Oh yes. _Obviously,_ you're well enough to continue your training. That's why you're still struggling to pick up weapons with your injured arm." Tristan drawled.

Gwaine stiffened, taking it as a rejection. He hadn't been taking rejection well as of late. It was too painful, too hard to deal with now that Merlin was gone. Everything seemed to have spiraled out of control after Merlin left. He really shouldn't have stayed; no matter how shocked he was, he should have chased after Merlin. It was too late to regret it now. Merlin was gone, had disappeared completely. None of the knights were having any luck locating him on their special mission. It was a main part of the reason he wanted to get better so quickly. He needed to be out there, searching for Merlin _himself_. He was sure he could help—sure he could find him. He started when a hand suddenly descended on his shoulder, patting it comfortingly. He looked up at Tristan.

"Tell you what, I'll help you out again." The vagabond offered. "I'll help you with your muscle strengthening exercises, do them with you so you don't feel silly. And afterwards, we can see about teaching you some techniques I know with a dagger. As long as Gaius determines them not to be _too_ strenuous, it shouldn't be a problem. That way, you won't _really_ be lagging behind in your training."

Gwaine grinned up at him and gave him a pat on the back. "You're an alright guy!" He said, not missing the sheepish glance Tristan gave Gaius. He also didn't miss how the physician's lips pulled tight, thinning. He wasn't happy with the idea but it looked like he wouldn't have a chance to object to it either. Lucky~

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

"Merlin, what do you think of this boarder dispute?" Sebastian asked, exasperated. It was lunchtime and Merlin was taking a break, both from his duties in the kitchen and from training Aiden as well. It was slow going, teaching him, but the boy was learning quick enough. Merlin was just afraid of overwhelming him, of teaching him too much, too quickly. He'd offered—okay, well, more like _begged_—one of the other servants to let him carry up the lunch tray to the princes. He wanted to talk to them about his worries in training Aiden, see if they had any advice. Instead, he'd spent the last half hour listening to them arguing back and forth about a boarder dispute. It seems this had been going on for days now and they were at an impasse. He was used to Arthur occasionally asking him for help in such matters but it still surprised him when the princes asked for _his_ opinion. It was a jarring experience—he wasn't their servant, after all. He wasn't really related to them in any way beyond them being his saviors—not officially. That he views them as friends didn't change how he was viewed in the court. He wasn't one a prince would usually seek council from.

Presented with the question a bit unexpectedly, he pauses from straightening Sebastian's chamber. He did it more out of habit from the time he'd spent with Arthur than out of any actual necessity. Slowly he turned to regard them, choosing his words carefully. "Why ask me? No offense, but you are more likely to know about boarder disputes than I am."

"True, I suppose, but you've heard the pros and cons as often as we have these past few days. I hear this matter is all abuzz among the servants. So please… Tell us your opinion. Maybe you can unravel this tangled mess better than we can." He sighed. Alistair glanced up from the parchment he was currently working on, glancing first at his brother and then at Merlin. His eyes reverted to the page and he began to write again, not long bothered or distracted by the conversation.

Merlin mulled it over as he absently straightened the bed. "I suppose…" He began slowly. "I suppose that rather than consult your aids over the matter time and again, you should meet this neighboring king at the boarder in question. Since you both have a vested interest in claiming the land, seeing it might help you both clear up how much you actually want. Besides, the ones truly affected by this matter are you citizens that live right by the boarder. It might do some good to meet them in person."

Silence greeted his response and even Alistair paused his writing to look up at him. Feeling stupid, Merlin flushed and ducked his head, adding, "Sire" to his monologue. He quickly smoothed the quilt and tried to duck out, wanting to get away from his embarrassment. He shouldn't have said anything. He spoke out of turn. He looked like an idiot, a buffoon now. Sebastian stopped him before he could get even half way to the door, though, and he cringed, wondering how bad the lecture would be about his stupidity. "That makes perfect sense! Much more than those stuffy old fogies and their traditions!"

Merlin blinked up at him, not expecting the compliment. He was so unused to being praised for his ideas. Arthur usually tore them down and called him stupid. True, he'd never really minded all that much when it was in good ribbing… But he didn't always do it as a joke. More often than not, he treated Merlin as if he really _thought_ he were an idiot. The idea of sincere praise was a foreign concept to him. He glanced at Alistair, praying in his heart that Sebastian wasn't messing with him, that this wasn't some cruel joke. But no, it wasn't; Alistair nodded his head once in acknowledgement of the idea. They both liked it! Feeling gratified and buoyed by the idea of actually being _valued_ for his advice, Merlin chatted happily as a magpie for a few minutes before excusing himself. He'd completely forgotten why he approached them in the first place but it didn't matter. With his newly improved self-esteem, he felt brave enough to try tackling the method of teaching his young apprentice again.

* * *

There was a few second of silence after he left. Slowly, the door cracked open and Sebs stuck his head out the door. He looked down the hall and just barely caught Merlin's retreating form. He didn't even spare a glance for the guards posted outside his room. He was so used to them that he'd come to view them as furniture. Satisfied that Merlin had indeed gone and wasn't going to attempt to use any magical means to listen in on their conversation, he retreated back inside his room. "He's gone," he confirmed.

"Good." Ali nodded, not looking up from the speech he'd gone back to writing. "Now speak your piece."

"Why won't you make Merlin an advisor?" The question practically exploded out of him and he began pacing the length of the rug before the desk. "Surely _you_ can do it without causing too much of a fuss!"

"No." Alistair wrote a few more lines before setting aside the quill pen and inkbottle. "Think, Sebs. If I make him an advisor without him earning the position, true, no one _could_ complain. Not to us directly, of course, but the resentment would still be there. In the end, he would bear the brunt of the grudges of the court and since we appointed him to that position, anything we did to try to alleviate the situation would only make it worse."

Sebastian inclined his head, seeing the sense in his words. "True. The nobles aren't opened minded to lower folk and those old fogies hate anyone who doesn't stick to tradition." He frowned slightly, considering. "But how is that any different than now? He's still giving us advice!"

"He's a servant." Alistair told him flatly.

Sebastian stared for a long minute before it dawned on him. "And servants can be ignored. Even if he gives advice or we ask him for it, it doesn't draw attention to him. It won't draw him into the political strife because he's not considered important enough."

Alistair, in turn, frowned. "He is important."

Sebastian waved the comment off. "Yes, I know that. He's a powerful sorcerer after all. I meant, to the _kingdom_ he's not important. Nobody will suspect he means anything to us. Although, he might get the occasional bullying because of that—"

"But he is important. Not to the kingdom," argued Alistair. It went unspoken that he meant Merlin held importance to him. The implication along was enough to make Sebs pause and turn toward his brother.

"Ali. _Alistair_. He's a _servant._ Don't forget that. Don't ever forget that, above all else, he's still of the _lower class,_ that he's beneath us. If you're seen making friends with the serfs openly, you'll be perceived as weak. Even if he's meant to be our pet project, you can't—"

"I know." His face closed off in an impassive mask. He set to work finishing his speech. "You needn't worry. I took a passing interest in him, which made him important. I'll leave his well being in your hands now."

Sebastian frowned, not quite satisfied with his response, but nodded slowly. "I'll make it openly known I've taken something of a fancy to him. That should keep the more serious bullying attempts at bay. Although, from what he's said, I don't think he'll appreciate the special treatment."

Alistair nodded and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. Sebastian deferred to him, giving a small bow and turned to exit. As he opened the door to his own room to leave, Alistair called out to him in an indifferent tone. "Keep him safe. Keep him happy." Sebastian looked back at his brother sharply but Alistair had already dipped his quill in ink and gone back to writing. Turning, he left his brother in his room to finish his speech in peace, the cogs turning in his mind as he contemplated the last twenty minutes of conversation.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

"Half a year. It's been over _half a year._" Arthur prowled down the halls, his knight at his heels.

"Seven months, sire. It's only been seven months. I'm sure we'll hear something soon." The captain of the guard tried to supplicate the king. He'd been brought in only recently into the search, in hopes that more people would expand the search and making finding Merlin easier.

"You've been saying that but nothing's turned up!" The King snapped, riling. "You're _sure_ he's not in Ealdor?"

Sir Leon spoke up before the captain could further irritate the king. "Yes, sire. We've checked on four separate occasions."

"Where could that idiot be? It's not as if he can just walk willy-nilly into any kingdom! Several of our neighbors hold the same views as Camelot on sorcery. Surely he knew that."

Unfortunately, none of them had really paid attention to who might be nearby. Gwaine, who'd only recently recovered enough to return to the training field with Tristan's help, rounded the corner just as he spoke these words. He was covered in sweat from a particularly hard training session but his eyes narrowed in anger. "Perhaps he simply didn't care." He snapped. When he'd first heard the idea of searching for Merlin, it had stirred him back to life. Then he'd been injured and kept from the search. Three months later, with almost no clue as to where Merlin might be, he was rather disillusioned. He wanted to help with the search but realistically, what more could _he_ do than the knights had already done? Tristan was talking about moving on again and he was less inclined to ask him to stay and more inclined to go with him. The last solid lead anyone had was a sighting of Merlin was near the boarder of Mercia but there the trail grew cold. News from Mercia claimed no one by the name of Merlin, or any sorcerer of any kinds within their boarders. So what had happened to him? Had he been kidnapped by bandits, doubled back and gone a different route, or just hidden out in the woods? Any number of things could have happened to him!

"Gwaine," hiss Leon. Now was not the time for his fellow knight to have a melt down.

"No, Leon." He ground out the words, his frustration mounting as he gritted his teeth and glared at his king. "He needs to hear this. Merlin considered Arthur his truest friend and Arthur _betrayed him!_ He turned his back on him and now he's gone, perhaps for good! He needs to take responsibility for that!"

Surprisingly, Arthur didn't feel outrage at the jab. Instead, all he felt was a stabbing pain, both at Gwaine's perceived betrayal and the thought of Merlin dead. But then again, wasn't Gwaine right? Hadn't he betrayed Merlin? No… No. He'd been betrayed, magic had lashed out and hurt him again. Magic was evil and those who practiced it… Well, they were idiots and he was never going to let Merlin hear the end of it. But before he could respond to Gwaine, the warning bells rang. They were under attack.


	7. Aftermath - Month 7 Part 2

Recap:

_ "You wouldn't have wanted to learn, admit it. If I tried to teach you, you would've ignored everything I said. Besides, isn't it a little arrogant to think that you alone were holding this kingdom together?"_

_"Like you're one to talk." Arthur muttered under his breath. He tried not to glare at the vagabond. Well, he would start taking his cues from Tristan then. He'd follow what he was doing and figure out how he was raising his knight's spirits._

End of Recap.

* * *

Merlin watched Aiden as he attempted a basic levitation spell. "Good, good. Try again. You seem to have the basic concept down, now let's work on strengthening your magic. Try to see how long you can hold the coin up in the air."

The boy nodded and his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. Merlin's mind drifted back to Gaius, when the kindly old physician used to teach him little bits of magic. It was only here or there; it was a rare occasion, since he was usually berated for his use of magic. Once or twice, however, the fussy physician taught him something. He was basing Aiden's training largely on the methods he remembered Gaius using on him—at least, the methods that _didn't_ require calling him an idiot every five minutes. Like when he taught him about herbal remedies. He thought about learning the remedies, about teaching the princes a little of what he knew about medicine. _Damn it, why hadn't Merlin taught him some of these things?_ He could almost swear he heard Arthur's voice ringing in his head, his thoughts echoing about how he should know this so he could be the center of his knights' universe or something. He started at first; unsure of where the thought came from all of a sudden. It really _did_ sound like Arthur. Instinct fueled him to respond with his own thoughts, so he did.

_"You wouldn't have wanted to learn, admit it. If I tried to teach you, you would've ignored everything I said. Besides, isn't it a little arrogant to think that you alone were holding this kingdom together?"_

_"Like you're one to talk."_ Came the response, clear as a bell in his mind. He snorted, chuckling at the strangeness of the situation. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he and Arthur were communicating magically across two kingdoms. It really did seem as though he were talking to Arthur again, their barbs and sarcastic remarks flowing easily between them as they always had. He opened his mouth to murmur a response.

"Emyrs, sir… What's the matter?"

He looked at his apprentice, who was tentatively staring back at him. He must be loosing his mind. What was he thinking, indulging a delusion, even if it was of Arthur? He gave Aiden a tight smile. "Nothing. Aiden, I've already told you… You don't have to call me sir. And I'd really appreciate it if you stopped calling me _Emyrs._"

"Yes sir. Sorry sir, I forgot." He replied promptly before bowing his head a little and going back to concentrating on levitating the coin. Merlin sighed. He still had yet to break the boy of that particular habit. It was going to take some more time to get him to at least stop calling him _'sir'_…

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Evening fell and Merlin walked Aiden back to the little hutch he was staying at, a side room on the cook's house. He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "You did good today, Aiden. Very good. You managed to hold it up for two whole minutes! I think you have some real potential for magic." The boy beamed at the compliment, pleased. He walked him inside; making sure the boy would be comfortable for the evening before he went to see the princes.

"Um, wait! Mister… _Merlin._" He winced as if he was somehow being disrespectful and expected to be punished for it. Merlin merely grinned. To him, it was a start in the right direction.

"What is it, Aiden?"

"My, my nephew, he wanted me to give you something…" He shifted from foot to foot, looking nervous. "You, of course you don't have to accept it! I'm sure he would understand! It, it's hard to trust the son of your…enemies."

Merlin walked over to the boy and ruffled his hair lightly, pushing his head back a little to look into his cautious yet still hopeful expression. "What is it, Aiden?"

"My nephew… Baltazar, he said that he wanted to make up for what his father… What my br-brother did to you. He made you a potion. He said it was to help with fatigue. I told him a little about you. He, he was gone when my brothers… He'd didn't know about the plot, I swear! He's a good person! He likes hearing stories about magic although he says he isn't very good at it. He said we must be tired from our constant lessons with magic, that's why he made the potion. He gave me one too and I tried it. It works well, promise! And, and I know you won't want to trust him. But Baltazar, he's different than his father. I've known him all my life and he's always been kind to me, helping me all the time. Even if, if he's older than me." His cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He seemed to find it embarrassing that his nephew was older than him.

Merlin felt a flutter of unease but he ignored it. "I'm sure if you say so, Baltazar must be a good person. I'll take the potion now, Aiden. I can't guarantee I'll use it tonight, or ever really, but I appreciate the thought." He wanted to be cautious but he didn't want to snub his apprentice's family member. He was already isolated because of the incident. He didn't want to cause a rift inside his family on top of that. Aiden gave him a shy, grateful smile and quickly rushed off, going to get the potion. He came back, clutching it tightly in his hands as if he was afraid it might vanish suddenly before he could give it to Merlin. He accepted the precious vial from the boy and gave him another affectionate pat on his head before saying goodbye. He needed to see the princes, talk to them, especially about this.

He stepped out into the darkening twilight. He didn't notice the figure in the shadows watching him intently, chanting softly under his breath. He glanced at the clear, blue glass vial and held it up to the light. He didn't see anything immediately wrong with it. He unstoppered it and took a quick whiff, hoping it wasn't toxic. It smelled medicinal but not threatening. Perhaps it really was just a remedy for fatigue. He certainly wanted to believe that. He was so tired of meeting sorcerers and having them try to kill him. Although, hadn't Aiden said that his nephew was weak with magic? He took another discrete sniff. It really did smell natural, medicinal. Surely a small taste, just the barest of samples, wouldn't hurt? He tipped it a little and let his tongue snake out, tasting the liquid. The figure in the shadows smiled malevolently and turned, heading toward the center of town and away from the castle. Merlin didn't feel any different, although he was suddenly inexplicably thirsty. A thrill of unease went through him again and he quickly stoppered the bottle. He shook off the feeling and headed to the castle. He would check in on the princes and then he would see the court physician. Perhaps he could help him figure out what was in the vial. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of that immediately, except it seemed as though he'd been compelled to imbue the potion. But that was absurd.

He quickly made his way to the Crown Prince's chambers. Alistair had taken to holing up in his room as of late, pouring over treaties. Some of the old treaties were being called into question by Queen Annis and it took great effort on his part to find a peaceful resolution to the matter. Sebastian had often complained that Alistair was too soft, that sometimes a show of force should be first so that their allies would not think them weak. Merlin, however, agreed with Alistair. Especially considering he'd dealt with Queen Annis once before, at Arthur's side. Rash use of brute force would not help them win the Queen to their side. However, he felt torn between sharing the information he knew and holding his tongue. True, he wanted to help them but this was sensitive information. Camelot had gained it first and it could later be used to drive a wedge between Arthur and the bitter Queen. He couldn't recklessly come out and say what he knew to them, not without putting Camelot's future in their hands. Alistair was his friend, he knew that and treasured their relationship, but he was a Crown Prince first. Any information he was given would be used to the benefit of the kingdom, regardless of how Merlin might feel on the matter. He hadn't noticed his steps had slowed as he thought over his current predicament until he came to with a start. He'd been standing in front of the Prince's chambers for what must have been several minutes, just thinking. Cheeks suffused with blood to pink and he felt an immense gratefulness that for once, the guards were at the end of the hall and not standing outside the door. It was embarrassing enough to become lost in his own head without an audience!

Hesitantly, he raised a hand and knocked on the door. There was a brief pause of muffled conversation on the other side and moments later, the door flew open. Sebastian's eyes sparked with mirth and strangely, a small amount of wariness. A large smile grew on his face and he held the door wide open, so that the other occupant could see out. "See? I told you there was nothing to worry about, Ali," his tone teasing. "He's right here and he's just fine."

Merlin came into the room, his brow furrowing slightly. He didn't bother to hide his confusion. "You were worried about me?"

Alistair rounded on him, teal eyes pinning him with a look. They flew over him, as if checking him for any injuries before returning to his face. The whole once over took only a few seconds but it left Merlin's clutching in knots that weren't entirely unpleasant. Had something happened? He hadn't heard any rumors of unease in the kingdom from the servants but perhaps he'd missed some tidbit of information. Then again, something about the look told him that this had nothing to do with any of the kingdom's problems. No, this was something else but he wasn't sure what it was.

"No." Alistair replied shortly, looking away and going back to restless pacing. "Nothing is wrong. I was merely…expressing _concern_ on why you might be late."

Sebastian laughed but there was a slight tenseness to his smile, a show of unease in his posture. "Don't mind him, Merlin. My brother is a bit of a worrywart. He tends to immediately jump to the worst conclusion when it comes to people he cares about."

Merlin beamed at the high praise even as he chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was supposed to be here at a set time. My lessons ran late with Aiden and—"

"How is the boy?" Alistair asked suddenly, his restless movements relaxing as he turned back to Merlin.

He blinked at the sudden question but smiled fondly. "He's doing well. He's a quick study. I'm glad he's such an eager pupil but I often fear that I'm not enough. I'm not exactly the best teacher since I'm still learning myself."

"That's not true." Sebastian gestured for him to sit even as he draped himself in a chair. He looked regal and every bit the prince he was today. His fine clothes were impressive, not the kind he normally wore. "You saved his life, kept him from being executed along side his brothers during the trials and you are the only reason he wasn't banished afterward. I've snuck a couple looks on your lessons and although it's above my head, the way you are with him is remarkable. You took our quiet kitchen boy and have him blooming into something spectacular."

Merlin blinked at the compliment. He felt an unexpected flood of heat rush to his cheeks. "You were spying on me? Oh gods, and I must have made a complete buffoon of myself! Did you see the time at the river?"

Sebastian grinned wickedly and leaned in. "The time at the river? Oh do tell. This sounds like an interesting story."

Merlin laughed but shook his head. He gestured to their outfits, trying to change the subject. "Did you have another meeting today? In regards to the treaties?"

Alistair stiffened slightly and Sebastian made a face of distaste. "Gods, must you remind us of the hideousness?"

"Why don't you tell me a little about it? Maybe I could help." Merlin offered.

Sebs glanced at Alistair. The Crown Prince turned to stare silently in the fire. The silence stretched on, at first seemingly innocent. The longer it grew, though, the more strained it became. A few minutes later, the tension felt like it was strangling the warlock. He cleared his throat and looked down, tightly clenching his shaking hands together. They were white from bloodlessness. He felt their eyes turn to him, boring into him. He winced and licked his suddenly dry lips. He was extremely thirsty again. Must be the nervousness he was feeling.

"Merlin?" Sebastian prompted gently.

"I…" His voice cracked and he gave a slight, mirthless laugh. "I've had dealings with Queen Annis in the past. If, if you can promise not to question why I know what I know…" He winced again, knowing that he really wasn't in a position to make demands of the princes. Still, he couldn't leave them helpless when he knew he could help. "I can tell you what might work against her and what will most likely hurt you."

Silence reigned again. He dared a glance up again. Sebastian wasn't looking at him. His hands were curled in fists at his side and he was staring angrily out the window. He gnawed on his lower lip, as if he was trying to bite back something. Merlin had never known him to be so angry over something he said before. Then again, he'd never been so presumptuous before. Alistair was also looking away from him. His back faced him as he stared once more into the fire. The warlock shifted uneasily in his chair before slowly standing to his feet, feeling defeated. "I, I'm sorry. I'll go now…" He began.

Sebastian suddenly whirled around to look at him, his eyes sparking angrily. "Damn it, _why?_" There was a raw quality to his voice. "Why can't you trust us, Merlin? Gods, I thought we were friends! We're not monsters, we won't demand to know everything you learned in the presence of your precious _king._" He spit out the last word as if it was bitter.

Merlin jerked back as if he'd been physically hit. He hadn't meant it like that he wanted to reply. He hadn't meant to doubt them. But he had, hadn't he? He'd doubted them. He wasn't sure he could trust them, not with this. Not with Camelot, not with Arthur. He opened his mouth but couldn't find the words. Guilt and shame cascaded over him and his head bowed.

"But gods knows, we should!" Sebastian ranted, the words tumbling out as if he couldn't stop them now that the floodgates had been released. He stood and strode over to Merlin, his hands gripping his shoulders. It wasn't painful but it was uncomfortable. "Why, Merlin? Why are you still so damn loyal to that kingdom? You don't know how many times I've wanted to tell you to forget all about Camelot, all about Arthur, all about your supposed destiny! They threw you away! They treated you like trash, destroyed you. You probably don't remember because it was so long ago and you were half-delirious at the time, but I do! I will never forget how you looked when you first stumbled into our square. You had a haunted look, Merlin, the kind we haven't seen in a long time. Not since the old knights who had seen and lost one too many wars retired to the countryside. You looked like that, Merlin! You looked like you'd just fought a great war by yourself and lost! No physically, you were a little beat up but not too bad but it was there, in your face, in your eyes! And even now, even _now_, you are still loyal to the _thing_ that did that to you!"

The prince suddenly released him as if it burned him to touch him. He looked stricken and turned away. "No… No, I didn't mean to say that. I didn't mean to say any of that. Please…" His voice broke. "Please, Merlin, forgive me. I… Forget I said anything."

Alistair didn't say a thing during the outburst. He'd gone very still but he didn't say a word to agree or disagree with his brother. He seemed to be holding his breath as he waited for Merlin's response. The problem was, for a minute Merlin had no idea how to respond. He'd never thought about how he acted might effect them. Did Camelot truly seem so vile to them, simply because of how he'd be treated? No, no that couldn't be. He wasn't so important that he could control the fate of relations between two kingdoms. Still, he chose his words carefully, in case there was an off chance that it was true. He licked his lips, aware of how dry his throat felt. "I am…"

Alistair seemed to still further, as if willing himself to turn to stone. Sebastian had drawn over to the window, taking refuge in the shadows. His expression was masked in the dark as he turned slightly toward the warlock but he could imagine his wary look. "I will always be loyal to Camelot. They are my countrymen, it's the home of my heart and I loved it for so long, despite the fear I felt staying within the boarders. That doesn't mean, however, that I'm not loyal to Mercia now." He felt it, as if it was an invisible thread tugging on his heart and connecting him to Camelot. His next words would test everything, his destiny, his resolve, his loyalty, and even his character. He knew that, somehow, something was about to change. He took a deep breath even as both princes turned toward him. "Mercia is my home now. I will not betray any secrets that will harm Camelot but everything else, everything else of me, you can have."

He felt it, deep in his heart. The strain, as if a thread was pulled too tight and was beginning to fray; his connection to Camelot was thinning. He didn't want to think of what would happen if it broke. He didn't want it to break, even if it meant he'd be able to let go. He wasn't sure if it was some irrational need for the past that had him holding on so tightly or if it was something else. He closed his eyes and he swayed slightly. A sudden wave of fatigue swept over him. The vial in his jacket pocket felt heavy. Should he drink it? It felt compelling, the idea of that sweet liquid soothing his parched throat—no. No, he couldn't drink it. He knew then, there was something desperately wrong with the potion. He shouldn't have tasted it, he should have known better. He cursed himself silently. He opened his eyes, intent on telling the princes about the potion.

Alistair spoke from his place at the fireplace. "You asked about the meeting today." He said softly. Merlin's thoughts on the potion fled. It was rare that the Crown Prince would willingly offer information himself. He usually left that to his younger brother, conserving his words. He was curious to hear the events from his perspective. The vial could wait. What would a few more minutes hurt? Staring into the fire, the blond prince began his rendition of the meeting's events. The warlock listened intently, interrupting only to ask a question or confirm a fact. An hour and a half later, he was feeling wearier than ever and hungry. They weren't done by a long shot but he'd managed to give them enough helpful tips that the brothers would at least be able to figure out how to handle the situation better. Standing, Merlin blinked back his tiredness.

"Where are you going?" Sebastian asked. He was still treading cautiously, as if he was afraid to push their friendship too far. Merlin gave him a tired smile.

"I haven't had dinner yet. I was going to grab a quick bite to eat. I'll be back if you still need me."

Alistair waved him off absently, his pen sketching across the paper as he outlined a new treaty. "No, it's fine. You need your sleep. You may go."

Merlin bit back a yawn. "If you are sure, Sire…"

"Ali's right. I completely forgot you still have your responsibilities as a servant. You should go now. Sorry for keeping you so late." Sebastian gave him a sheepish smile.

The warlock nodded and gave a slight bow. "Then I will take my leave for the night." He wondered if he was coming down with something. He suddenly felt like his limbs were heavy, leaden. He made it to the door and walked through it with a strange sense of detachment. He was half way down the hall before his movements became sluggish, before a cold sweat broke over his entire body and it was hard to even shuffle forward. Something was wrong, seriously wrong. His mind struggled to come with the reason. He didn't even realize what he was doing until a shaking hand brought the vial into his line of sight. Ah… His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his knees collapsed beneath him. His last conscious thought was that he hoped Aiden didn't get in trouble for this. He doubted the boy knew what his nephew did. He'd been so earnest…

His body crumpled to the ground. The vial slipped from his hand, bouncing from his hand and rolling past the guards, alerting them. It bounced down the stairs, tipping end over end through the air. The firelight gleamed as it soared through the air. For a moment, the liquid seemed to glow as if the light had been captured inside of it. The crash it made as it the floor at the bottom of the stairs wasn't heard. It was covered by the shout of alarm the guard upon finding the sick warlock. A door slammed open and the sound of running feet echoed through the corridor. There were more shouts, first calling the warlock's name and then, when there was no response, a command for the court physician. Running feet echoed down the hall relating the rush to obey the order. Servants suddenly sprang to life, the castle rousing to life. Feet rushed up the stairs, no one noticing the broken vial or the slowly spreading puddle. It dripped down into the cracks in the floor, pooling there. For a long while, there was the sound of servants rushing to and fro, of guards searching the castle, of motion and action in regards to this viewed attack within the castle walls. It was hours later before the mess at the bottom of the stairs was noticed. A young maid _tutted_ at the puddle and silently set to mopping up the liquid. She swept up the broken glass and then went on her way. She missed the ominous twinkle the torchlight seemed to gleam in the glass and the compellingly sweet scent that still lingered in the air over the spill. In her mind, there was no connection to favored servant that was the cause of her current grumpiness. She'd been woken in the dead of night and for what? A young man, a servant, who was ill; it wasn't worth the fuss everyone was creating over it. She threw away the shards and went to the kitchen to tell the others what gossip she'd managed to gleam from the guard who was sweet on her.

* * *

Merlin twitched in his sleep, or at least that's how it appeared as he lay in bed in the court physician's chambers. The slick assistant loomed over him, leering happily as he mopped up cold sweat from his chest. Alistair frowned at him but he didn't notice, or else he might have backed off. Merlin gave a soft, pained moan, his eyes fluttering rapidly behind his lids. "What's wrong with him?" The Crown Prince demanded, his tone broking no room for uncertainty or a failure to produce an answer.

The court physician shook slightly. He was an old man; too old for this job but not yet ready to give it up to his swarmy assistant. He recognized the tone, though he had not heard it since the prince was a boy. He'd used it back then for a friend too; that commanding yet slightly passionate tone that spoke volumes of the deep well of emotions he felt. He was certain that now, just as it had been then, that the wrong answer would not only end his career and possibly his life, but that it could have a devastating result on the prince in question. However, unlike then when he could give a reasonable reassurance, now he had to deliver the bad news carefully. "He appears to have been poisoned, my liege." The prince relaxed, expecting good news. He had more experience than anyone in the five kingdoms when it came to poisons. After all, his path before he'd been appointed as court physician was an assassin. His specialty, of course, was poisons. He rubbed his hands together nervously. "However…"

The prince tensed. For a moment, he thought it was his words and he braced himself for the reaction he expected. The prince's eyes narrowed and his face paled slightly with fury. "That's enough! Back away from him!" He barked out. Startled, the physician turned to see what he was glaring at. His eyes closed in pained understanding as he caught his assistant dropping the sweat rag on the floor and backing away quickly, tripping over a bucket in his haste and falling on the floor. The reason he'd been told off was all to clear as well. Even though he'd told him not to, he'd clearly been attempting to remove the boy's shirt. Of course, the idiot couldn't quietly hold his tongue and let him fix this situation. He had to start babbling.

"I, I am sorry, Sire! I, I was just… I wanted to remove his shirt! It's, it's bad for his health if he's left in those sweaty clothes. I was just…! I meant no disrespect, I simply…"

The Crown Prince's expression had gone from pale with fury and narrowed eyed to stony. Nothing was revealed in his expression. It was as if he'd been carved of fine marble. His voice held the hard edge one would expect of stone as well; imposing, hard, earthy, deep, and immovable on the position he took. "Leave. Now."

"S-sire, I…"

"You will leave this place. You will not return until I say or until the boy's condition has improved enough that he is no longer here."

"B-but my liege, surely my work here…!"

"You will obey this command. If the physician is in need of your services, he will summon you and only then can you break my command. Be glad that I have not banished you for your unspeakable act." The assistant stared at him with huge eyes, his mouth opening and closing like a fish unable to breathe. "_Now go._" He scrambled to get out of the room as quickly as he could. The prince turned his cold gaze back on the physician. "Now, explain again, physician."

"He has been poisoned, Sire. However, I am not familiar with this potion. I can find nothing in his system to explain it, nor anything on his person. I would need the origin of the cause to…combat it."

The prince frowned and looked at the pale figure on the bed. As if sensing his gaze, the young man gave another pained moan and twitched. His frown deepened. He shot a concerned look at the physician. "What are you saying? That we can do nothing for him? That we must leave him in this state to _die?_" His voice rose, impassioned.

The physician shook his head. "No, Sire. Not in the least. Strange as it may sound, it seems the boy is already combating whatever is affecting him. I believe he will make a full recovery, I simply do not know how long it will take him to recover or what lasting effects might linger. It would be helpful to know what he'd been poisoned with so that I might be able to help him in the future and that I might know what to expect."

Suddenly, Merlin began thrashing violently in his sleep. Alistair's back went rigid for a moment and then he leapt across the room, holding the boy down. He was groaning loudly and muttering under his breath, although nothing he said made any sense. The physician tottered over, pressing a hand to his forehead and then taking in his current state for a long while. He moved away, muttering to himself and shifting through the vials and potions on the counter. He finally found the one he was looking for, a blue vial. He picked it up and sniffed it before staggering his way back. He uncorked the vial and forcefully tilted the withering boy's head back, holding it in place. Alistair caught a whiff of a compellingly sweet liquid and then it was poured down the boy's throat. He gave a gurgled wail but his thrashing ceased a few minutes later. Hesitantly, the Crown Prince released his hold.

"That should put an end to the excitement for now. Now off with you. I don't expect to see you back here any time soon, _my liege._" The physician gave the prince a pointed look. He would not have rumors sprouting up because the prince decided to visit a friend in his care every day. That would be enough to send the whole court abuzz, especially since he was considered to be such a lowly servant, certainly not someone one would expect beside a prince. He stiffened but it appeared that he understood the message loud and clear. He nodded and the physician watched him walk off. It was good that he finally seemed intent on making friends again. The only strange thing was that he didn't remember hearing that slightly possessive tone in his voice last time. His memory must be worse than he thought… Brushing off the thought, he went to consult the tomes, hoping to find some hint of what was the cause of the poisoning. Behind him, the boy groaned softly.

* * *

Merlin twitched in his sleep. His eyes fluttered and he felt himself thrashing but he couldn't help it. His body kept alternating between hot and icy cold. Behind the lids of his eyes, visions assailed him, visions of Camelot. It was under attack! No, no… This couldn't be happening. Why now, why do this when he was gone? He should be _there_; he should be _protecting_ Arthur and all of the land. Ice, there was so much ice, and the cold. He shivered violently and was vaguely aware of someone mopping up the sweat off him. His muddled mind alternated between reminding him he was sick in Mercia and trying to process the visions assaulting him. Snow, ice… Frozen villagers, barren land with withered crops. Flashes of face, people he used to know. The knights, trapped inside the castle. Of Gwen, worriedly pacing inside a tower. And then of Arthur. There were so many images of Arthur. His consciousness was fleeting and he could feel the passage of time as he lay there. He was vaguely aware of Aiden sobbing, a muffled sound, and later of arguing. He wasn't sure over what. Someone was wiping him down again but the feeling made him uncomfortable. It wasn't right. Something was wrong. His mind fought for consciousness and his eyes cracked open. The sight that greeted him turned his stomach. The slick assistant hovered over him—then he was suddenly yanked off and he heard a guard berating him before darkness stole away his mind again.

_'…thur. Arthur. Arthur!'_ Merlin bolted awake, sweating. He couldn't tell if it was from the fever or what he'd just seen. It was only because he'd bitten his tongue that he didn't scream out Arthur's name. He was certain of one thing, however.

Camelot was under attack.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

"Where is he?"

Sebastian paced the room, glaring when the question presented itself. "For the hundredth time, I don't know!" He snapped.

"How could he just leave?"

Sebastian gritted his teeth to keep from repeating himself. He rounded on the one questioning him. His brother stared out the window bleakly, rubbing his forehead. Haunted eyes turned to regard him for a moment and all the bluster left him. Alistair was distraught over Merlin's disappearance but he had to maintain his front for the court. The mask of composure he constantly wore had begun to fray, taking its toll when Merlin fell sick. Or rather, when they'd found him collapsed in a heap minutes after pressuring him for information about how Camelot gained favorable relations with Queen Annis, seemingly poisoned. Beyond the initial visit of dropping off his body, his position hadn't allowed him to see Merlin since. Not without drawing unwanted attention to the servant. Neither could he, his brother, visit for the same reason. They couldn't pump any of the other servants for information, either, without it seeming suspicious. They had virtually no update on his condition for days, left with feelings of frustration and powerlessness caused by their titles. Then, three nights ago his fever abated and he finally woke. Of course, their distress grew when they were informed that he was raving about Camelot being under attack. At first, the physician seemed to think it was just hallucinations but despite their best efforts to keep news from Camelot from him, it seemed as though Merlin knew more of the city's current problems than they did. It was clear the next morning that he wasn't content to just let the matter be, as he was gone.

"Ali, look, I'm sure…" Sebastian swallowed and looked away, trying to put real conviction behind the words he doubted. "I'm sure Merlin's alright."

An awkward silence grew between them as the lie hung in the air. Alistair stared at him blankly, the knowledge of Merlin's condition weighing heavily on him. Sebastian looked away, unable to keep up the ruse for his brother any longer. Of course Merlin wasn't all right. How could he be? His fever hadn't even fully broken before he took off. He was likely making himself worse right now as they spoke.

"We kept him from Camelot." Alistair said suddenly. He turned to stare out the window again. "To save his life, we kept all news of _him_ from _Camelot._ To save him from pain, we kept all news of _Camelot_ from _him._"

"Yes…" Sebastian agreed slowly, confused.

"Perhaps that was wrong of us."

The younger brother snarled in denial. "_Of course it wasn't!_"

"He said it was his destiny. By keeping him from his destiny, perhaps we did more hurt than help."

Sebastian was silent for a moment. He remembered his last words to Merlin with a wince. He'd denied his destiny more than Alistair ever had; yet clearly his brother was blaming himself. "Listening to the way he spoke about Camelot, about the people he knew, it was clear to tell that he didn't want to leave."

"He had no choice. He was banished by the king."

A familiar flare of anger sparked in Sebastian's chest. "Exactly! He'll be _killed_ if he goes back!" He threw his hands up in the air out of frustration. "So why would he?"

"Because it is his destiny." Alistair stared out the window, a forlorn look on his face. He appeared to age ten years, his expression and his posture that of a King instead of a Crown Prince. For a moment, he looked every bit the king Sebastian imagined he would be. "He said King Arthur Pendragon _broke his heart_ but he is _still_ loyal to him. They are forever intertwined in their fates. Should Arthur and Camelot fall, I don't think Merlin would ever fully recover. I don't think it would be possible for him to function without both existing."

Sebastian stared at him in silence as that profoundness of what his brother just said hit him. It was a hard statement to swallow. They both wished dearly that Merlin would choose them, that he would become a citizen of Mercia and forget his ties to Camelot. To think that he could never do that, that it was his destiny to be forever torn in two between his duty to Camelot and his new home in Mercia was too cruel to think about. Was this a sign that they should let go, that they should let him cut his ties to _them_ instead? He didn't want to believe that. Yet what his brother said sounded like true wisdom and he couldn't fully deny it. His expression altered when Alistair turned away from the window looking determined. Worry suffused him as he heard the angry words muttered under the Crown Prince's breath. Alistair made a sharp gesture with his hand, dismissing the guard at the open door. "Tell my father we wish an audience. Immediately and post haste, in regards to an urgent matter that requires his attention." With a sharp bow, the guard rushed off to flow his orders.

"What's going on, Ali?" Sebastian hissed as he followed his brother into the hall."

"Merlin has gone to help Camelot. We will back him up. We will show everyone that an attack on Camelot is a declaration of war not just against them, but against Mercia as well."

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

"I still can't believe Damire is using a sorcerer to attack Camelot!" Arthur exclaimed in outrage.

"Why? Damire is Cenred's cousin. He took over for him after he was killed—by you." Sir Leon toned in a bland voice.

"That's anyway, that's not the surprising part. That he would consort with _sorcerers_ is!" Arthur began again.

"Completely expected if you ask me." Gwaine threw his lot in. When Arthur glared at him, he merely shrugged as if to ask _what?_

"What would you know? You weren't there!" Arthur snapped.

"No, but Merlin was." Surprisingly, it was Percival who spoke up. He sounded strangely bright as he mentioned the banished warlock by name, although he had the presence of mind to look bashful and sheepish when Arthur hissed at him. "Sorry, Sire, I just…"

"What in heaven's sake does _Merlin_ have to do with this?"

"When _doesn't_ Merlin have something to do with something?" Tristan muttered to himself and was promptly ignored by all present.

"Well, Merlin told us some stories when he went on patrols around Camelot. Stories about you before we were your knights."

"Why do I not remember this?" Arthur challenged, crossing his arms.

Leon cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking nervous. "It was, it was after you became king, Sire. When you stopped coming on the patrols with us. He, he requested to still go with us on occasion."

"He did _what?_" Arthur looked furious. Instantly, the walls of betrayal and anger at the missing warlock dissipated. He reamed his knights, chastising the lot. "How could you allow him to do something so dangerous, so _stupid?_ You would have put him at risk if you were attacked! He could have been hurt! He could have been _killed!_ That is completely unacceptable and—!"

"Completely irrelevant now since he's not here," Tristan toned sarcastically, cutting the irate king off. "Fitting, since he was the one person in Camelot who could have saved us."

"Or at least thawed the castle." Elyan muttered. He shifted closer to the fire, throwing a meaningful glare at the frozen walls. Even that lacked heat, as if their icy surroundings had numbed his anger as well as his hands.

Arthur glared for a moment longer and then deflated. "But he's a sorcerer. I couldn't just ignore that. I couldn't just let it go. How would it look if I suddenly changed my tune because of one man? They would think I was bewitched and the nobles would have demanded his blood anyway. And worse, I would have been a hypocrite. I spilled the blood of how many, simply for practicing magic, but I spare my friend without a second thought? I would have been perceived as weak. If my father was alive…"

"Since when has what your father thought ever stopped you?" Gwaine snapped. "He wanted to kill me and you stopped him, spared my life. You made Lancelot, Percival, and Elyan knights! Your father's wishes be damned! When did that change?"

"What about you?" Tristan asked, genuinely curious. "He made you a knight as well."

"I don't count." Gwaine said shortly. "My father was a knight. In the eyes of the land, I'm a noble by blood." He practically spat out the words, not bothering to disguise his loathing.

Elyan and Leon looked shocked by this revelation. "You never mentioned that!" Elyan accused.

"I didn't see it as important. Merlin knew but I swore him to secrecy."

"I see." Arthur's glare returned. "So he was keeping multiple secrets from me. It figures."

"Hey! That's not fair—!"

"I already knew about your lineage!" Arthur snapped. "That's no surprise to me. What is a surprise is that Merlin knew yet still treated you no different than a commoner."

"That's what I liked most about him!" Gwaine shot back.

"How is any of this helping us with our current situation?" Leon demanded, gesturing to the frozen castle. Icicles hung down like miniature lances from the ceiling. The torches were covered in frost. Ice hugged the walls and the doors had to be kept open to keep from being frozen shut. An icy wind blew through the castle, causing them all to shiver. Their small fire fluttered, threatening to go out. If it did, they would freeze to death within a matter of hours with the quick approaching night coming that promised a severe drop in temperature. A broken chair leg was quick deposited in it to keep it alive. It was a bleak sight and the devastation wasn't held only to the castle. Outside and all around the immediate surrounding area was a winter wonderland. Worse still, it seemed to slowly spreading, inching its way through the lower town.

"I don't know _what_ to do!" Arthur admitted in defeat, his posture deflating as he slumped.

Elyan poked through the scant amount of firewood they'd managed to collect, mostly consisting of wooden objects within the castle. They were hard pressed to leave it. It had seemed so daunting facing a sorcerer before but with Merlin by their side, encouraging them, anything had seemed possible. Now, they had no idea how to take on one as powerful as this one. "Merlin would say something annoying and cheerful right about now." He said wistfully. "He'd cheer us all up and then you'd be able to come up with a plan."

Arthur stared into the fire, looking worn and older. For a moment, the knight could see their king as he would be when he was old and gray. "But Merlin isn't here anymore. He's not _anywhere_ anymore."

It was Gwaine who snorted, alleviating the heavy air. "He's somewhere alright, and probably living it up without you ordering him around anymore. He's too hardy to die."

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Merlin ran through the forest, trying to avoid the dogs almost literally on his heels. His fever hadn't lessened much since he left Mercia. In fact, it had gotten much worse or so it seemed. That's how he wound up in this situation. He'd stopped to find some plants to help fight the symptoms. Of course, with his luck, that meant he'd somehow stumbled into the path of some slavers. They'd sic the dogs on him, saying he'd make a pretty addition to their product and that he'd fetch a good price. Naturally, he'd taken off when he heard that, panic flooding his system. Now he was running like those deer in Arthur's hunting parties—except. Except, he _didn't_ have to run. The thought hit him as he almost tripped over a tree root. There was no more need for him to hide who he was, _what_ he was. He stopped, panting, and slowly raised his body. When the barking and growling dogs caught up to him, he was standing tall, his back to his pursuers. Farther away, the slavers heard a _yip_ and suddenly the forest was deadly silent. They didn't notice the power that seemed to almost radiate through the air until it was too late.


	8. Aftermath - Month 7 Part 3

Author's Note: This was actually supposed to be only two parts but it ended up running longer than I thought. Also, I apologize for the ending… I've been working on this since 1 and it's now 6 AM and my mind is really fuzzy. I'm going to try to get some sleep. Hopefully, when I wake up, I can make this make more sense..

* * *

Back in Mercia, the princes had hit a dead end. Half the advisors were for standing by and doing nothing while Camelot was on the brink of falling. The other half wanted to offer their support but weren't so sure about sending an army. After all, there were surely better and more diplomatic methods of handling the situation weren't there? When they were challenged to come up with such solutions, however, they said it would take time. Time Camelot simply didn't have—they weren't happy to have this pointed out. The final decision, though, came down to the king. He had sat on his throne, impassive, as Sebastian laid out the facts. He listened silently to all the arguments. He questioned both sides equally without showing an inclination to either. It appeared as though he had yet to decide on a course of action. Alistair, however, had had enough of sitting back and waiting.

"It comes down to this, father. Either we send an army to help Camelot, our ally, in their time of need or we stand back and watch them fall. If we help them, then you can rest assured that they will do the same in our time of need. From what I have heard of their king, he will be eager to repay the debt." He showed no emotion as he mentioned Arthur. "Not to mention, we will be able to rid ourselves of a mutual enemy in the process. If they fall, true, we might get more land. But the cost of that land will be even greater than any here imagine. We will loose our strongest ally and with Camelot gone, the kingdoms will again fall back into the same messy territorial war as before the great citadel was created. Does anyone truly want that?" The Crown Prince persuaded.

Silence reigned as the advisors considered that. It was clear many had not thought that far ahead and were disturbed by the idea. The implications of his speech were enough to move at least a few of the advisors in his favor, he noted, but his eyes fixed on his father. It was the king he needed to convince, not those idiots. Finally, the king spoke. "Your words sound wise and true, my heir! I can see you feel strongly about this matter. Very well, I will do as you asked and spare one fifth of my army. No more than that. You may do with them as you see fit."

Cries of protest began from the advisors he hadn't managed to convince. The king rapped his scepter once on the throne and the room fell silent. "That is all. You are dismissed."

Everyone turned to go, understanding the command. His sons also turned, planning on filing out as well. He held up a staying hand. "Not you, my sons. You will join me in my chambers for a private conversation."

* * *

An hour later, they looked at each other, still standing awkwardly in the King's chambers. He had yet to return, although he had bid them to wait for him immediately. Until he appeared, they could not be seated or talk. For a long moment, they stared at each other. Five more minutes passed before he entered his chambers. He took one look at their faces and nodded approvingly. "Good. From your rueful expressions, I can see you're ready to speak the truth."

"Sire?"

"Don't _'sire'_ me, Sebastian. I'm your father, not some senile old man. I know how you two operate and you both bicker like old women when it comes to subjects of war and fighting. You especially, Alistair. You hate war, preferring to find every other solution, fighting being the last resort. Sebastian is rash and hot headed—he likes solving the problems quickly, regardless of the method and cares little about your qualms for war. He doesn't seek war out but he's never seen why you oppose it either. When you first brought this proposal to me, I thought it was Sebastian's work again. I think you planned it that way, presenting it in that bored tone, letting him butt in and take over while you stood silent in the background as you always do. Except I've never seen Sebastian as passionate about getting an army before and he'd certainly never tried reason beyond his instincts. Usually, that's enough. His instincts are rarely wrong and they hold some weight in the court, as he's a seasoned warrior, one of our best. When you added your last bit just now, I was sure this was your scheme. Now, I want the truth behind this war I've just signed our country onto and none of this horse manure about helping Camelot. Neither of you cared one wit about Camelot's well being when I went to sign the treaty with Uther nor do you care now."

Both princes were studiously silent throughout the monologue, carefully looking anywhere but each other. When it ended, Sebastian spared a glance at Alistair. At first, it seemed as if he was quietly contemplating this wrong he'd done. However, he glanced up from supposedly staring at his shoes and their eyes locked. They shared a silent mental connection, something they hadn't done in months, and Sebastian tried to hide a grin. He was rather unsuccessful at it but he didn't care. His brother always had a plan, even for a situation like this. He turned back to their father, who was studying them intently. No doubt he'd noticed the glance, something they'd been doing since they were children.

"It _is_ my fault, father." Sebastian confessed. "Just not for the reason we let everyone assume. My _new servant_ Merlin used to live in Camelot and he was worried about his home country. He ran away to help fight. We want to go retrieve him."

"For a _servant?_" There was acid in their father's frown, although his tone remained carefully neutral.

"He's not just a servant, father. We would never waste your time or resources for a simple servant. He's powerful; he's a sorcerer and perhaps the strongest we've ever encountered. Yes, I know—" Sebastian cut off the protest about to come from the king. "Your feelings about magic are very similar to Uther's. However, if Merlin is on our side, he could be a very strong ally. With Merlin, we could take on anyone. Besides which, he's already saved our lives twice. We at least have to repay the favor. You were the one who taught us that, father." He said with a cheeky grin before he launched into an explanation of how they found Merlin, as well as both times he saved them.

The King slowly nodded. "Yes, I suppose if those stories are true, _if,_ he would be very useful. At the very least, we should try to keep him here for your protection. As I recall, Camelot's views towards magic haven't changed even with its new king, so we can save him and put him back in our debt. It's a good plan. What say you on this matter, Alistair?"

Alistair looked up slowly and stared straight ahead passively. Yet his family could not recall a time before when he had spoken with such passion and conviction. "Regardless of whether he's of use to the country or to us; regardless of whether you gave your consent and help or withheld it, I always planned on going to get him."

His father's brow furrowed in confusion. For a moment, he wasn't a king but a father looking bewildered as if his usually compliant child suddenly became a willful young man. It was an apt description of how he felt. "Why?"

Alistair closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he opened his eyes and looked at everyone in the room squarely; his father, his brother, the silent servants in the background, the guards standing stoutly at attention at the door. "Because he is important to me. Merlin is my important…friend."

Sebastian gulped and almost choked on air. A slow hiss of air escaped the king. The servants froze, trying not to even breathe. The guards stood taller, willing themselves to stone. Crown Prince Alistair hadn't made friends with anyone besides a couple of knights since he was betrayed as a child. He swore to never make friends with another servant again as a result of that betrayal and the once happy child took up the teachings of stoicism. It was rarely talked about in the castle, the incident having been swept under the rug so many years ago, yet it was widely assumed that he would always remain wary of friendship.

"I see…" His father looked rattled but quickly returned to the mask of king. "If that's the case, we shall have to ensure he returns safely."

Sebastian, on the other hand, continued to look shaken by his brother's revelation. He'd paled slightly and he stared at Ali with wide eyes. Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't warned his brother away from making friends with Merlin. Perhaps then, he wouldn't be realizing for the first time how much his words and actions must have hurt him since. Perhaps if he hadn't, he would have realized sooner how much his brother had changed. He was certain of one thing, though he was contemplating a great many other.

Merlin no longer belonged just to Camelot. Now he also belonged to Mercia.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

"This can't be the end…" Elyan whispered in disbelief. On top of dealing with a frozen land, since two days ago they had had to deal with the sorcerer's ice minions. Apparently, he got tired of waiting for them to freeze to death. No matter how much they hacked them to pieces, though, they only formed back together again. The knights were exhausted and the cold seemed to sap their strength.

"If we're going to go out…" Arthur's voice faltered. He'd never pictured it would end like this and certainly not alone, without Merlin by his side. For some reason, he always assumed Merlin would be there when he died. "We go out proud and tall, as knights of Camelot!"

Tristan snorted. He wasn't a knight, had no intention of becoming a knight, but he raised his sword. "No regrets."

"No…" Arthur's voice cracked. "I do have regrets. I regret Merlin—"

A loud voice cried out, cutting him off. The ice creatures before him exploded, blasting apart as lightning struck them. Instantly, they all fell back, wondering what new terror was this. It was Gwaine who saw him on the ridge first. Wordlessly, he raised his hand to point, his mouth opening to form the name although he couldn't produce the sound. Arthur stared; his sword unconsciously lowering as he realized this person was no threat to them. There stood Merlin, looking incredibly pale even at this distance, and clearly not dressed for the sudden winder his city was experiencing. He was panting, his breath coming out in clouds as he looked around. The thin shirt he wore was soaked in sweat. Spotting some more ice minions forming, he stretched out his hand and more lightning reigned down from the darkened sky. This was his power. It was truly awe-inspiring and for the first time, Arthur wondered _why_ he had chosen to use his power to serve him. It couldn't be just fate or destiny. Merlin wouldn't have come back if it was.

"Emyrs!" The sorcerer stepped forward, spewing the name as if it were a curse. "Emyrs! How dare you!"

"You cannot kill him. You cannot kill Arthur." His voice rang out clear with authority. Why had Arthur never heard that tone before? Why had he never noticed the power woven into his speech? "I won't let you kill him."

"You are the one that had been foretold for generations! You are the one destined to change us, to bring about a new era for magic! Why do you try to fight it?"

"I don't. I'm doing exactly as my destiny says I should."

"Then fight _with_ us! Help us! This man is just like his father! You are one of us; join with us! You could be a king instead of a servant to one!"

A slow grin spread across Merlin's face. It was wane and it had none of his usual kindness or cheer behind it. Instead it seemed brittle, tired. "Haven't you heard? I'm not Arthur's servant anymore."

Dread entered Arthur's heart, spreading through his veins like ice. His grip on Excaliber tightened. No. Not this. Not Merlin. He couldn't fight Merlin!

"So you'll join us?" The sorcerer sounded eager as he took a step toward the warlock. "You'll help us create a greater Albion?"

Merlin raised his hand to the sorcerer. "I never said that. Arthur is the one destined to create Albion. He is the one who will unite the lands and bring peace."

"You—how can you still serve this hateful man?"

"I am no longer Arthur's servant." Merlin replied, his voice ringing with authority again. "I'm his protector. I've come back to spread the word. Any attack against Camelot is an attack against me."

The sorcerer screeched in rage and flew at Merlin. He aimed several attacks, a few of which were evaded. He watched at the sorcerer began to climb the ridge before he turned his attention back to the knights of Camelot. He gave them a tired but natural smile, his smile. "Damire's army has been delayed but they will probably be here by tomorrow evening. Save your strength—I'll be back if I can." The sorcerer was almost upon him.

"Emyrs!" He shrieked.

Merlin turned and fled. Again, they were all frozen with shock as they watched the warlock disappear from their sight yet again. It was twenty minutes before any of the realized what he did. He drew the sorcerer's attention and his wrath to draw him away from them. Tristan spoke up for the first time since his appearance. "Even now, he protects you. That's true loyalty. I wonder what he sees in you."

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

It was a long battle. The knights were on the last of their strength when an army showed up. Seeing the Mercia army led by a knight in gold tinted armor made Arthur stumble, his sword feeling impossibly heavy. Not even his knights could fight two armies at once, especially not in their current condition. The knight stared down at him, his face obscured by a visor. Then their unlikely hero gave a war cry, loud and clear, ringing across the battlefield with a rippling effect. His army gave an answering cry, charging forward. They surged on Damire's soldiers. They had allies. Strength bolstered, Arthur led his knights back into battle twice as fierce.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Gasping, Merlin stumbled into the cave. Half his face was covered in frost and patches covered his clothes. He shuddered and collapsed to his knees, desperately trying to focus his eyes. He knew using his magic in his condition, with the fever, would drain his strength. He couldn't believe it happened so quickly. Wasn't he supposed to be an all-powerful warlock? But he could hear Gaius chiding him, even after all this time, that he was still mortal and he'd taken a stupid risk. Fighting that sorcerer had taken two days instead of the few hours it should have taken him under normal circumstances. Of course, ideally, the sorcerer would have never known who he was and he wouldn't have spent a day fighting and luring him a good distance away from Arthur and Camelot. He hadn't thought about it before but the one good thing about the ban on magic was it had forced him to hide who he was. He'd resented that up until today but now he realized he'd also relied on it. He did his magic best from the shadows, out of sight, when others were unsuspecting. Fighting head on took a whole lot more out of him. Not to mention he still had to conserve most of his magic. He had to reverse the winter spell somehow, even though he had no idea what curse the sorcerer had used. Plus, he had to get back to Arthur and…

_Get back to Arthur and…_

_Arthur…_

His eyes felt heavy and his body was so cold. But he had to go and help Arthur.

"Ar…thur…" He fell forward, the sound of his head hitting the stone floor ringing out in a loud crack. He was already unconscious so he felt no pain from the impact. Neither did he notice the frost and ice chip off as it cracked, saving his head from directly hitting the floor. Behind him, a figure in dark clothes, dressed as a bandit, snuck up on his defenseless form.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

"We won, Sire!" Leon cried happily. His legs were shaking with fatigue but he refused to rest yet.

Arthur clasped his hand on his knight's shoulder. "Yes, we won. Now, where is the Crown Prince of Mercia? I really must thank him—"

"That's not necessary." A silver and gold tinted armored knight rode up behind Arthur, wearing a blue cape with the Mercia crest. He took off his helmet and shook out light brown hair with golden streaks in it. He gave the king of Camelot a wide grin. "And the Crown Prince isn't the one who led the troops. He had important matters to attend to but he entrusted me to this matter."

Arthur nodded, looking vaguely impressed. "It is not often I see a knight of such high caliber on the fields. Even rarer is he so richly adorned."

"That is high praise, coming from you, my lord."

Arthur frowned, used to supplications from knights. "And who are you, sir knight, that you wear the _Crown Prince's_ armor so freely?"

"Ah, Sire, this is…" began Sire Leon, hoping to spare his king embarrassment with his blunder but the man laughed and waved the knight into silence.

"It seems I've offended you, my lord. My apologies, that was not my intention." He swung nimbly off his horse and strode up to Arthur. "I am Prince Sebastian, Crown Prince Alistair's younger brother. I often take his place in certain matters so he can deal with other matters, matter that usually clear up such situations as this."

Arthur felt his cheeks heat slightly as he realized his gaffe. "So you are Prince Sebastian. I see, I didn't—"

"Don't bother apologizing. There's no need. Neither of us wanted to come to that boring treaty signing a few years back, so you had no chance to meet us as of yet. Of course, if your father had insisted on going to war back then, you would have met me under very different circumstances on the battlefield."

"Then it is good that our first meeting is as fortuitous as this."

"Yes, my lord, we are indeed fortuitous. Now, I'll allow you to get back to tending your men."

"Right." Arthur turned and began walking away. "Sire Leon, where is Gaius and his almost competent assistant?"

"Sebelin, Sire, is tending to Gwaine's old shoulder wound. I believe Gaius said he needed to return to his quarters to retrieve more supplies."

Sebastian watched them go, heat burning in his eyes. "_Very fortuitous for __you__. Had we met under different circumstances on the field, I would have run you through._" He turned when his own knight addressed him and heading back to his men. They quietly discussed the damages and casualties; he didn't look back so he didn't see Arthur freeze and whirl around to look at him with a confused look. Somehow, he had managed to hear that quietly spoken threat. He knew now that Mercia might be an ally but at least one of it's princes was not.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Merlin woke to the quiet cackle of a fire. It took him a moment to adjust his eyes to the dim light in the cave. Outside, the grey sky made it hard to tell what time it was. He didn't know how long he'd slept. The fog from his brain lifted and he realized there _shouldn't_ be a fire warming him. He'd had no chance to make one before he passed out. He struggled to sit up and began to panic when he noticed he wasn't wearing his clothes. Instead, he was dwarfed by a shirt meant for some sort of man with muscles, possibly a lot of them, and slightly loose pants. A blanket lay around him, which he quickly shouldered to fight off the chill he still felt. His clothes lay on a large rock by the fire. Strips of rabbit, at least he thought it was rabbit—it looked like rabbit, were laid out, waiting to be cooked. Whoever found him didn't plan on being gone long, he decided. He scrambled around, looking for something to defend himself with—

"You should be laying down." A familiar voice chided.

Merlin's shoulder's tensed then relaxed. Without thinking too much about it, he stumbled to his feet and teetered over to the figure coming into the cave. He gladly collapsed into his waiting arms. He should have known, should have recognized the clothes or at least the faint scent on them. "Alistair."

Lips twitched up in a slight response and he tilted his head ever so slightly, as if agreeing that yes, that was his name. Concern, amusement, and contentment danced in his expressive teal eyes. Gently, he guided Merlin back by the fire and gruffly told him to lie down. When the warlock refused, he gave a tired sigh and tucked the blanket more firmly around him. Giving him a look that clearly told him not to move, he turned and set about cooking the rabbit.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

"What are you doing here?" Merlin asked later, as he gladly ate the hot cooked meat. He tossed it back and forth, warming his hands. He didn't care that they were getting greasy in the process.

Alistair glanced up from tending the fire, looking both bland and curious at the same time. "Should I not be here?"

Merlin flushed, realizing that it probably sounded ungrateful. He hadn't meant it that way at all! "Um, no! I mean, it's fine that you're here. I'm glad! I was just wondering… This is Camelot, Arthur's territory. Isn't it a big deal for you to set foot here?"

"King Arthur." Alistair corrected, avoiding the question. He stared at Merlin from across the fire. Merlin stared back. "King Arthur of Camelot, who does not allow sorcerers in his kingdom."

Merlin blinked at him. "Yes. Arthur."

In a gentle voice, Alistair continued. "You may not want to admit it yet but you are no longer friends. He is King Arthur."

Merlin snorted, not wanting to acknowledge what he said. "He'll always be a prat to me. Arthur the prat. Arthur the clot pole."

Alistair nodded, not pushing the issue. He stared into the fire, accepting the heat that scorched his face. It was a welcome change from the cold air. "I lied." He finally admitted.

"Eh?" Merlin roused from his sleep-induced stupor. He was tired and the heat from the fire felt good. "Lied? Who?"

"Healing magic isn't the only magic I know." Alistair continued, ignoring Merlin's nonsensical questions. He didn't look at the warlock. "I was born from an affair my father had with a druid woman. It occurred two years before he married his queen. It's not exactly a secret, although it's not widely talked about. Since my mother was a druid, I have the same talent most my people have; of touching minds and sharing thoughts."

"O…kay?" Merlin murmured, snuggling into the blanket. His eyes drooped half closed. He didn't get why Alistair was telling him this. It didn't seem like a big deal to him.

"My gift is…a bit stronger than most. If someone is…_important_ to me, I can find their mind even if they are leagues away." He looked straight at Merlin as he said this. Merlin recognized the look he wore, the one he'd learnt to mean he didn't want to hide or lie anymore. "I followed you here."

He couldn't tell if the warmth he felt was from the sickness, the fire, or those words. Maybe it was an odd combination of all of them. "I'm important to you?"

"You are. I consider you an important friend."

Merlin gave a pleased, sleepy smile. "You're my friend too." Warm and happy and glad to know he was safe with someone looking after him, Merlin let himself nod off. Alistair watched him, laying him down so the fire would warm him but not too close. He seemed to be doing better, the poison and sickness almost completely worked out of his system. If he didn't tax himself too much, Merlin should be back to his normal self within a couple of days. He added a few more branches to the fire and inspected the woodpile. He nodded in satisfaction. It should keep them both until morning.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Arthur was happy. He was ecstatic. He had allies. He had allies willing to fight Camelot's wars with them. It was only right that he return the favor, of course, but that didn't bother him. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be the best of friends with Prince Sebastian but he hadn't felt any true animosity since that quietly uttered threat. Perhaps he'd merely been speaking of what might have happened had his father gone to war back then. That would make sense. Besides, he'd fought in an unnecessary war, at least for Mercia, so he couldn't possibly hate him all that much. His brother, the Crown Prince, was rumored to behind this move, which meant he had another ally in the court. He had powerful allies, both in Mercia and in Merlin—

His thoughts ground to a halt. Merlin. _Merlin._ That's right. Merlin came back. Merlin came back right when he needed him most. Merlin came back and he fought the sorcerer for him. Against all reason, he'd come back, just for him. He'd claimed he was his protector. He'd said that he believed Arthur would create Albion. Merlin believed in him. Merlin still believed in him and he was still loyal to him. He had to find him. He had to find Merlin. What happened after he found him, what he would do then, could wait until later.

* * *

A day passed but despite Arthur's increasingly frenzied attempts, he couldn't find Merlin among the survivors or the injured. No one he talked to had seen his missing warlock. Fearing the worst, he searched through the corpses. Every time he came across a mop of black hair, his hear filled with dread. But it was never the blank mop of unruly hair he'd become accustom to. He spoke to his knights twice and found Gwaine missing—he'd chased after Merlin without hesitation the first chance he got once the battle was finished. His loyalty was wavering, Arthur knew that but deep in his heart, he knew the truth; Gwaine's loyalty had always been to Merlin _first._ His knight staying after Merlin left, after he banished him, was the anomaly.

"There still isn't a sign of him? Of either of them?"

"No, Sire." Leon shook his head, looking uncomfortable. "After Gwaine faked his injury, he snuck out of the camp. He told Tristan he wouldn't return without him and there's been no sign of him since."

The fact that the smuggler had been involved in Gwaine's disappearance came as no surprise to Arthur. He'd expected as much. He sighed and raked through his mind, trying to come up with a new line of questioning that might somehow produce more results.

"Perhaps I could be of some assistance?" Someone offered, coming closer to them. Prince Sebastian flashed a friendly smile. "If you are worried for one of your knights—"

"We aren't worried for him. He went after one of our companions and hasn't returned." Leon explained.

"Right. May we look among your dead? I wouldn't normally ask this," Arthur began, hoping he was wrong. "But we're looking for someone who isn't dressed as one of us. He… He might have gotten mixed among the others by mistake."

"Really? Why don't you describe him to me?" Sebastian's tone remained friendly but the knight noticed that his smile tightened and his body stiffened at the mention of their dead.

His king apparently didn't notice because he continued on without hesitation. "Oh right. Well, he has blue eyes and this messy mop of black hair. I don't think he's ever combed it in his life. He's skinny, no muscle on him, and clumsy and acts like an utter idiot at times. Yet somehow, despite all the odds, he manages to sound wide and surprise me at the oddest of times. Not that you could probably tell that from a…" His throat tightened and he shook his head. Maybe the prince had seen him alive instead, though. He kept describing his missing former manservant. "He wears earthen tone clothes, usually brown and for some reason, he has a love of red kerchiefs, which he wears around his neck. And Merlin, that's his name, Merlin—"

"Enough!" Sebastian's eyes hardened as he listened to Arthur but the smile slipped off his face at the mention of Merlin's name. He was openly glaring at Arthur. "Merlin. I remember the name well. If I remember correctly, he's the _sorcerer_ you _banished_ from your kingdom. You must have regretted it because not too long ago, you came begging to us, looking for him then too. Your _companion_ you say, but that doesn't sound quite right. Regardless, it's none of my business. Before you make any more unreasonable requests of me, however, tell me something. What do you plan to do once you find him?"

Arthur gritted his teeth, not understanding where this hostility was suddenly coming from. So much for thinking he had friends in the court. He really disliked Sebastian's attitude, tone, and the general line of questioning. "You're right. It really is none of your business. And I hardly see how I'm making any unreasonable demands."

Sebastian flinched as if he'd been struck but his glare remained on Arthur. "You wish to see my knights bodies and dishonor their memory. Yet that is not unreasonable?"

"I won't dishonor them!" Arthur snapped. "Now let me see them as a sign of good faith between our nations!"

His jaw clenched in unmistakable anger but Sebastian gave a jerk, single nod. "We shall see. Wait one hour and you may see our dead—you alone." He glared pointedly at Leon. He didn't want the knight there, any of his knights there. This was absurd. He whirled around and stormed away.

After he was gone, Arthur whirled on his knight. "Can you believe that? Who does he think he is! Questioning me like that… I am the king."

"All due respect, Sire, not _his_ king. And he is a prince."

"I understand that but I still deserve some respect. He had no right to question me! And what did he mean, 'dishonoring their memory' what was _that_ all about?"

Sir Leon shook his head, staring at the retreating figure of the prince. "That, Sire, I don't know."

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

An hour later, a spiteful Arthur trooped in with three of his knights. He was brought to the tent where they kept their dead in. This is where they readied them for the trip home and their burial rights. He was allowed easily into the camp, led to the tent without a sign of trouble. However, when he demanded to see the bodies, he was blocked access and told to send his knights say. When he refused, they barred his access to the tent. "Prince Sebastian gave me leave—"

"Do not bring our prince's name into this dishonorable act!" One of the guards snarled.

"Your request is bad enough, putting him in a position where you know he can't refuse and yet you would try to worsen the act?" The guard was practically spitting with anger. "Now leave this area. You may return when you are alone."

Arthur was fuming but had no choice to retreat. Mercia had just done him a great favor. No matter how confusing this sudden treatment and hostility was, he couldn't just pick a fight with the guards. It had been petty, how he'd practically bullied the prince into letting him come here. He simply couldn't understand their attitudes and honestly, he didn't want to take the time to contemplate it. Merlin was missing, possibly dead, and he needed evidence. Something, anything, to set his mind at ease. He was desperately willing the young warlock to be alive but he feared the worse. Especially since they were trying so hard to keep him out of that damned tent. "They must be hiding something in there." He muttered once they were a good distance away. "We have to find out if they are planning an ambush on us—"

**_"Arthur!"_** A voice roared and the king jumped, startled. He whirled toward the voice, wondering who had cause to call his name like that. To his immense surprise, he saw a page no older than eleven winters running to a gruff look knight. He was broad, all muscle, and had a scraggly, short beard. Despite his battle-worn appearance, he appeared young, in his early thirties at the latest. The lad scrambled over to him, fumbling in his attempts to remove his armor. It seemed the boy shared the same name as him and Arthur instantly felt a small amount of kinship to him. When it became clear that he was failing miserably at removing the armor, Arthur's heart clenched. A large hand raised and he took a step forward, worried the boy was about to be hit. Instead, the knight gently removed his wrist cuffs, gruffly explaining in a booming voice how they worked. He took the cuffs and the knight shooed him away, allowing a squire to help him remove the rest of his armor, right there, without the privacy of a tent. The King of Camelot wondered if Mercians knew anything at all about decency and modesty but dismissed the notion in favor of following the page. He found him cleaning the armor as best as he could, although clearly he needed help and teaching in this regard as well.

"Hey." The startled boy looked up and promptly dropped the cuffs, scrambling to make an awkward bow. "Ah. I didn't mean to startle you. I heard you have the same name as me."

The boy nodded mutely, staring at him with wide eyes that reminded him of Merlin. The warlock had a similar expression whenever he was caught doing something he shouldn't. Which was ridiculous, of course, because this boy had brown eyes instead of Merlin's brilliant blue. A sudden image sprang to his head as he imagined his former manservant teaching the boy how to polish the armor properly. Merlin would have liked that. A lump formed in his throat and he shook his head, banishing it from his mind. He needed to focus. "Would you mind helping me out?" When he didn't reply, Arthur reached for his purse. "I'll pay you-"

"I am a page loyal to Mercia. I won't betray my kinsmen or fight against them." The boy told him in a hoarse whisper, his eyes wide with fright even as he took a stand.

Arthur stared for a moment before he burst out laughing. "I would expect no less! I only want you to tell me if you see someone. Can you do that?"

The boy looked around uneasily and fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable. Finally, he gave a slow nod. He kneeled down to pick up the arm cuffs as Arthur dug around for the sketch. Finally, he was able to produce a picture of Merlin. A rough sketch, true, but he was sure that it would be enough for the boy to go by. "I need you to go into the ten of the dead and—"

The boy gasped, dropping the arm cuffs with a loud clatter. He looked at the king in horror, as if he'd just asked him to skin someone alive instead of running what seemed like a simple enough errand. The boy quickly shook his head, falling down as he tried to retreat backwards. He stayed on the ground, inching backwards even as he continued to stare at the king in horror. "No! No, I'd rather die! To do so would be—" He cut off, shaking his head emphatically.

The King of Camelot blinked at the boy in shocked confusion. "What? What's wrong?"

"Don't you know how shameful and dishonorable that is?" The boy whispered, looking around as if he was afraid to be struck down simply for talking about it. Whatever it was. "It's bad enough to see the bodies but I couldn't go in there _now._ Not when their faces are _uncovered!_" He said those words so fearfully that Arthur felt an actual chill go down his spine. He kneeled before the boy.

"What's shameful about seeing their faces?" For some inexplicable reason, he felt compelled to whisper as well.

"You, you really don't know? It's tradition. None can see their faces before the bodies are presented before the king, when he blesses and honors them for their service. If anyone else does—" He cut off again, looking shy and bashful suddenly. He seemed to realize whom he was talking to.

The knights kneeled behind their king. Sire Leon spoke, coaxing the boy. "What happens to the knights?"

"Their souls can't rest until the king blesses and honors them. But if anyone sees them before the king, their souls get scared off and they will be forced to wander the ear as disgraced knights _forever._" He spoke it with a child's whisper but he seemed to truly believe what he was saying.

Elyan, however, wasn't buying it. "Do you really believe that?"

He nodded earnestly. "I know so because, because my cousin Renald, he saw it happen! A deserter snuck into the tent, hoping to hide from the guards, and _he_ scared off the souls of _five_ knights. They killed him and buried him face down right there, so his soul would be trapped there forever. I couldn't possibly go and look at any of the faces knowing that."

Suddenly, Arthur felt ashamed. He'd waltzed into this camp and demanded to see their dead without showing the proper reverence. He hadn't even made a pretense of showing respect. To make matters worse, he hadn't even bothered to try to understand why they might not appreciate his attitude. He'd been so wrapped up in finding Merlin that he'd forgotten to think about anything else, like etiquette. Of course they would be upset over his demand. He stood slowly, firming his resolve not to go to the tent. It was highly unlikely that Merlin was dead, much less mixed in with these bodies. For now, he could let the matter drop. He'd send out a small party to search for Gwaine and Merlin later. He turned to leave, then paused, looking over at the boy who shared his name. "Would you happen to know why the guard said Prince Sebastian had no choice but to accept my request?"

The page bit his lip and chewed it nervously. Finally, he shook his head. "He shouldn't have said that to _you._" Done giving out information, he fled, scampering into a group of knights. Arthur recognized the one he sought out as the one who'd helped the page with the wrist cuffs earlier. "Sire Ellion, Sir Ellion!" He cried, tugging on the knight's tunic. He began speaking frantically in a low voice, pointing first at Arthur and then gesturing in the general direction of the tent. The ferocious scowl that marred the knight's face caused Arthur to tense. He fully expected a fight and he was grateful when the man merely swore and stormed away, heading toward the tent. That was one person's wrath he'd rather not endure.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted, still running through the forest. Despite his tracking skills, he'd lost the sorcerers' tracks twice. He'd had to circle back the second time when he ended up going in the wrong direction because of it. The longer it took to find his friend, the more worried he became. Merlin hadn't looked good and only being under constant watch by Leon, who stuck way too closely to the knight's code for his taste, had stopped him from following the warlock. When he didn't return to help them with the way, he knew something was wrong. Now, looking at the evidence of the fierce battle all over the forest, he was sure of it. He'd let his friend leave once—he wouldn't abandon him again. He only prayed that he wasn't too late.

"Merlin! Merlin!"

He cut off when he suddenly stumbled across the other sorcerer. He was in a circle of frost and ice, encased in a frozen tomb. Gwaine shifted closer, wondering at Merlin's power. He was capable of something like this—he suddenly fell back with a cry. Power pulsed from the crypt and he cradled his now frozen hand to his chest. He couldn't get closer to it without meeting the same fate as the one entombed. Belatedly, he realized this _wasn't_ Merlin's power. Whatever this was, it had been used _against_ him. He examined his frost-covered hand and he had an idea of how bad things had gotten while they were busy fighting. His heart sank when he noticed that Merlin's tracks, for those small footsteps in the snow that led past his position had to be Merlin's, led straight up to the crypt. Merlin must have tried to counter this curse and failed. He wasn't surprised; this seemed like wickedly powerful magic. It meant that he had to find Merlin that much faster though. He needed to help him. He looked around for Merlin's retreating tracks. Once he spotted them, he crashed through the forest haphazardly, following them blindly.

"Merlin! _Merlin!_"

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Elsewhere, Alistair and Merlin had already left the cave and were making their way toward the boarder. Alistair glanced at the warlock. "I can't believe you lured him so far away." He admitted, genuinely curious.

Merlin gave a hoarse laugh in response. His throat was sore, all that was left of his sickness. The fever had finally broken last night and dwindled down to a mundane cold. All that was left was a slight chill, a sore throat, and a serious case of the snivels. For the chill, Alistair had donated copious amounts of clothes and a blanket tucked securely around the boy's shoulders to keep him warm. He'd even thrown in his own coat, which explained the slight shiver that traveled through the Crown Prince's body as the cold permeated through his clothes. He'd promised to make tea later one, once they were safely across the boarder, to help with the sore throat. He could do nothing about the sniffles, though. Merlin watched the Crown Prince, noticing that he seemed cold. He sped up his pace, causing him to stumble. It wasn't on purpose but it accomplished his goal. Alistair backtracked to check on him. When he was close enough, Merlin enveloped him in a hug. "Here. At least warm up a bit. If we stick close, you won't be cold. We'll both be in trouble if you get sick too."

Alistair gave a slight snort but didn't argue. He shifted, then tugged Merlin along. The warlock followed after him, doing his best to keep them both warm. The prince shot a look over his shoulder at Merlin. He realized he was still waiting for an explanation for how he dealt with the sorcerer. "It took a lot of effort to get him this far away. By the time he realized what I'd done, there was nothing he could do."

"And the frost? The ice?"

"Oh that." Merlin nodded, tilting his head toward the rocky ledge nearby. Alistair steered them toward it so Merlin could rest from their hike. "I'll have to fix that. In a minute, not right now. He made a curse. It was rather powerful, made even moreso since he offered his life—"

"You will not offer your life to fix this." It was both a question and a command. Merlin smiled faintly at the concern and shook his head.

"No, I won't need to. It takes powerful magic of the old religion to threaten my life—more powerful than he was capable of creating. Besides, he wasn't part of the old religion." He shook his head again. "But I do have to undo it. As long as it's in place, Camelot will stay frozen. Plus, anyone who gets too close to his tomb will turn to ice. Hence, the frost on me when you first found me."

Alistair frowned but nodded silently. Merlin sensed he didn't want him going near the tomb again. He didn't explain that now that he understood the nature of the magic used to make the curse, he could break it even from this distance. "I'll be alright. I'm only waiting because after I break it, I'll need some time to conserve my energy." He didn't want to worry his friend too much, so he stretched the truth a little. It would be much more than a need to conserve his energy. He would need to use a great deal of magic and it would take a huge toll on his body.

Alistair suddenly stiffened, head swiveling toward the left. His eyes narrowed and he bodily pulled Merlin to his feet. "Go. Head that way, now." He gestured between a line of trees. "The boarder is near. My patrols should be sweeping the area. We need to reach them quickly."

"Why? What's wrong?" Merlin demanded.

"Bandits." Steel hissed out as he drew his sword from its scabbard. Merlin looked at him with wide eyes but Alistair kept his eyes on the tree line. He didn't repeat the warning—he just shoved Merlin in the right direction. He was in no condition to fight, especially not with magic.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Gwaine's pace increased from a fast hike to running when he heard the sound of a sword fight. Some was shouting.

"Go. Run, Merlin! The boarder's right there!"

"But what about—"

"Merlin!" Gwaine crashed through the trees and stumbled onto the scene. Aside from Merlin, everyone seemed to be dressed as bandits. However, the tall blond with a ponytail moved protectively in front of the warlock. So he wasn't what he seemed. Gwaine could deal with that.

"Gwaine!" He heard the relief in Merlin's voice. His oddly dressed companion batted away two swords. That was all the invitation he needed to join the fray. The odds were against them but that's how he liked them.

"Merlin, we'll hold them off. Go." His companion commanded, barely sparing the knight a glance.

"Hold on—just a minute. The spell…" Merlin seemed to be concentrating on something. The blond man stiffened when he mentioned a spell. Suddenly, a pulse of power exploded from him, racing outward in all directions. It blew the bandits away and the air seemed to warm.

"No!" The man cried, rushing forward. He didn't reach Merlin before he started crumpling to the ground. He barely managed to catch him in time so that his head didn't slam into a rock.

Gwaine started toward him, concerned for his friend, only to be held at bay when a sword was pointed at his chest. "Don't come near him, knight of Camelot."

Gwaine glared at him angrily. "What's wrong with him? What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything. He wanted to break the ice curse placed on Camelot and he said he could only do that inside the boarder."

"Then let me help him!"

"Does your _'help' _include dragging him back to Camelot to undergo a trial for returning—"

"Gods, no!" Suddenly, the hostility made perfect sense. He could almost respect the man for it. Without hesitation, he tore off the cape with Camelot's emblem on it from his back. He threw it on the ground. "No, I came to help him escape. I want Merlin to live, to be happy and free."

The man stared at him and slowly withdrew his sword. "Help me move him. The patrols should be coming by here soon enough. They'll be able to help take him to safety."

* * *

They'd been waiting half an hour for the patrol to come when they heard horses riding toward them. After situating Merlin, Gwaine had coaxed the mysterious man into a bout of sparring. They both paused their session, turning toward the sound for a moment. The man scowled and Gwaine frowned slightly. They could make out the colors of the group. Camelot red, not the Mercian patrol. Rolling his eyes, the blond man drew Gwaine back into the match. He struck his arm cuff with his sword just as they came into view of the riders. Gwaine cried out in pan and surprise. He lifted his sword, intending to pay back the blow. A shout startled him and he turned, stifling a groan. Arthur was among the knights. He immediately leapt into action, thinking he was coming to the defense of one of his knights. He shouted for his knights to subdue the blond man and restrain him. He easily dropped his sword, showing he meant no threat, but Elyan and Percival still manhandled him rather roughly. Before Gwaine could protest or explain the situation, a low moan from behind him arrested the attention of all present. Merlin stirred and then struggled to sit up. He was looking a bit disoriented, a hand clutching his head. He spotted the knights descending on his companion and gave a startled cry.

"What are you _doing?_ Leave him alone!"

Arthur came up short, eyes widening as he stared at the familiar mop of dark hair. "Merlin?"

"Arthur?" The warlock blinked at the king in equal confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I— What are _you_ doing here?" Arthur demanded hotly. "This is Mercia! You're over the boarder!"

"I know. I live here." The quiet statement floored them al. Merlin continued, looking down. "I had no where else to go and they looked after me after I—"

"Alistair!" Prince Sebastian rode up with a troop of knights decked in Mercia blue. He glared daggers at the Knights of the Round Table. "What in the world do you think you're doing?"

"Sebastian!" Merlin looked relieved and stumbled to his feet. In a quick, practiced movement, Prince Sebastian swung off his horse and moved with a purpose toward the imprisoned man. He paused as he took in the sight of Merlin's current condition however, frowning. He made a sharp gesture with his hand and several knights dismounted, moving toward the man in his place. He strode over to Merlin's side, wrapping an arm lightly around his waist as the warlock began to sag with weariness. He helped support his weight, keeping him upright. He glanced back at the Knights of the Round Table, his lips thinning when he saw they had drawn their swords and were keeping his men at bay.

"What is the meaning of this?" King Arthur demanded. "Call your men off at once!"

"I should be saying that to you." Prince Sebastian replied. "You have some nerve to come onto our land and tie up our Crown Prince. Release my older brother this instant!"

Gwaine faltered, not expecting to hear that. He was more shocked than the others. "Crown… Crown _Prince_?" He parroted as the knights quickly stepped aside, looking chastised. Arthur looked particularly thunderstruck.

"It probably wasn't intentional, Sebs." Merlin chimed in, shocking the Camelot group again with his affectionate name for the prince. "Arthur might be an idiotic git sometimes but even he wouldn't purposely try to start a war with Mercia."

"Hey!"

"We were sparring." Alistair spoke up for the first time since Arthur arrived. "He mistook me for attacking the man called Gwaine."

"He's one of my knights." Arthur explained, a touch defensive. His eyes, however, were glued on Merlin.

"Former knight, actually." Gwaine spoke up. "Banish me or punish me how you see fit—I refuse to continue compromising my morals for you." He tossed the ruined cape at the feet of Arthur's horse and began to strip off some of his armor as well.

"Gwaine!" Merlin protested. "What are you doing? You're a knight! You're meant to be a knight!"

"Fat lot of good it's done me. If the cost of being a knight is betraying everything you believe in and turning your back on your friends when they need you, I don't want it."

"But, but! I was counting on you!" He sounded indignant. "I was counting on all of you! I can't be there to protect Arthur anymore, so I was counting on all of you to!" He slumped as the effort to remain upset took its toll. His eyes slid half closed, as they grew heavy with fatigue.

"Well, now you're counting on us to take care of you. Rest, Merlin." Sebastian told him, shifting the young man.

Merlin mumbled something and the prince gave a hearty laugh. "Come on, Merlin! Let's get back to the castle."

"You can't just take him!" Arthur cried. At the same time, Gwaine said, "I'm going with you."

Sebastian grinned at the former knight. "I like you, sir knight. You are more than welcome to join us!" He ignored Arthur completely, dismissing his protests. He glanced at his brother to see that the guards were almost done freeing him from his bindings.

"You have no right—"

"You are in Mercia and you have tied up the Crown Prince. The one with no right to object is you." Cold eyes bore into Arthur, even though his expression and tone were teasing.

Alistair stepped closer to his brother, pressing a hand to Merlin's forehead. "How is he?" He asked, even as he rubbed one of his wrists from where the rope had left a burn.

"Better than when he first came to us. At least this time he didn't collapse of exhaustion."

"What?" Gwaine asked sharply.

"You didn't know? No, of course you wouldn't. We did our best to cover his tracks once he became a citizen of Mercia. When Merlin first came to us, he'd walked the entire way to our inner city. I don't think he'd slept in days. He was suffering from malnutrition, exhaustion, and it took a month to truly deal with the poisoning. Honestly, he was in the worst way out of all our pet projects."

"Pet projects?" Gwaine echoed, moving to follow the princes.

"Yes. Occasionally, we took on pet projects in the past. People who were thought to be beyond hope because of one reason or another. It was a way to pass the time." That wasn't entirely true. This was the one thing the brothers truly shared, helping these people. "Merlin's a special case, of course. He's the only one we've helped that wasn't our citizen."

"And he is our friend." Alistair added dryly, glancing at his brother.

Gwaine grinned in response. "So he won you over too, eh? He has a knack for that."

Sebastian laughed. "Yes, so it seems. I believe we have an extra horse you may ride, sir knight. Ali, why don't you look after Merlin? It's a long ride back."

"What are you doing?" Arthur cried, a note of panic entering his voice. _Was he to lose Merlin again? Would he disappear from his sight once more? _"Please! Where are you taking him?"

"To the castle, of course. I already said that." Sebastian blinked at him as if he thought that was the most obvious thing in the world that it didn't need saying. "We're taking Merlin home."

"Home?" Arthur repeated weakly.

"Home." There was warmth in the Crown Prince's voice as he wrapped a protective arm around Merlin's middle. He coaxed the warlock to half awake and convinced him to climb on the horse on his own. He swung up after him. He spared one last look at Arthur as he urged Merlin to lie back against him and rest. The look spoke volumes to the Camelot king. He would take care of Merlin, he would see to it that the warlock had everything he needed. He would make him feel welcomed and safe where Arthur had not. He looked away. Urging his horse around, he directed it into a steady trot. The patrol swarmed around him and the two figures were lost in the crowd. There was nothing Arthur could do but watch as they rode away. He had to get Merlin back from the Mercian princes somehow… Yet there was nothing he could do at the moment that wouldn't start a war between their countries. He suddenly felt as though he'd won a battle but lost an even more important war.


	9. Poll

I have been debating for some time and finally I decided to leave it up to you, my readers. I noticed a few of you seemed to like my OCs, Sebastian and Alistair. Since this story is more Merlin-centric and revolves around how he effects two countries, I didn't want to go into too much detail into them. I certainly didn't want to seem like I was over selling them! I'm glad that you seem to like them so much, which is why I finally decided to pose this question.

Would you like it if I posted a side story giving brief flash backs of their pasts? It can be taken along side with this story or it can be taken separate. I would honestly love to post a few chapters of Alistair as a kid and Sebastian getting into mischief as a teenager. Please comment and tell me your thoughts!


	10. Aftermath - Month 8 Part 1

Month 8 Part 1: Conclusion to Banishment

Author's Note: It will be a while before you hear the result of the poll. That's all I'm going to say on the matter.

I'd like to thank my semi-beta, Mog, for help with this chapter. It was good to bounce ideas off you on how to do this. I wasn't quite sure how to start this off, mostly because of Gwaine. I know I didn't do things like we talked about but you were still a huge help! **In other news, I would like a permanent beta, so if you're interested, please contact me.**

Also, if you want to talk to me about the series, feel free. I read all my reviews, all of them, and you can always drop me a line. I have most everything planned out until the last few ending chapters but I'm always willing to bounce ideas, so suggests are welcome if you want to see/add anything~! I hope to have the second part out by either tonight or some time tomorrow. That's all I have, so please enjoy~

* * *

"Where's Aiden?" Merlin mumbled sleepily, blinking at the twilit town. He'd expected his apprentice to rush out to meet him, to be waiting anxiously while he was gone and to greet him when he returned. Instead, he was nowhere in sight. The days it took to travel from the boarder to the capital were enough for him to gather his strength somewhat. He was still weak in comparison to his normal self, evident in the fact that he was leaning back into the Crown Prince's chest to keep upright and to stop him from toppling of the dapple horse if he nodded off. Again. He felt the prince stir behind him but he was too comfortable to pay much mind. "He must have been so worried when I took off. I hope I didn't upset him too much…"

"Who's Aiden?" Gwaine asked conversationally.

"His pupil." Alistair said shortly but he was still tense. Merlin tilted his head back to look at him, frowning slightly. Why was he tense? "What's wrong?"

At the same moment, Gwaine asked, "Merlin has a pupil? Really?" but he was ignored.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "Aiden… He confessed, Merlin." He said it gently, as if he was telling a scared kid bad news. Merlin couldn't understand why he was using that tone of voice with him.

"Confessed? Confessed to what?" His confusion radiated through his tone and his body. Gwaine seemed to sense that something serious was going on here and kept silent.

"To poisoning you." Alistair said shortly, drawing his horse up short although they weren't to the castle yet. He seemed to sense what was coming.

It was Merlin's turn to tense, his mind suddenly wide-awake. All the feelings of tiredness, of exhaustion and weakness, left him. He twisted around in the saddle as much as he possibly could, trying to get a good look at Alistair. Surely he couldn't be suggesting what he thought he was suggesting! "Poisoning me? He didn't poison me! It was an accident!" Even as he said that, he winced, knowing it was a lie. The fog in his mind lifted and he remembered what he hadn't thought of since he left Mercia. He'd forgotten all about the vial, and consequently, Aiden's role in it.

"He gave you that stupid potion from his nephew! It made you sick!" Sebastian snapped sullenly. He didn't like explaining his actions and that worried Merlin more. What had they done? He opened his mouth to ask when he felt the vibrations of the person behind him speaking.

"We thought you were going to die." Alistair said quietly.

Merlin focused on the Crown Prince's face, trying to read his expression. Alistair looked away from him, for the first time. Usually, he could look Merlin in the eyes when he had a question. No matter how bad things were, he was always honest with him. He felt a small trickle of horror curl up in his stomach. His mouth was suddenly incredibly dry. "What did you do?" He croaked out hoarsely, his voice barely a whisper.

"He confessed." Alistair said softly, turning his eyes back to Merlin. The rest of his expression was closed in resignation but his eyes still seemed to plead for his understanding. "A servant confessed to poisoning a favored serf in a public setting. He had to be punished."

Beside Sebastian, Gwaine stiffen on his horse and craned his neck to look at Merlin.

A shiver went through the warlock. He suddenly felt very cold and it had nothing to do with the weather. Punished? What had they done? What had they done to his apprentice? His voice cracked as it rose. _"What did you __**do?**__"_

"He was whipped. Ten lashes." Sebastian refused to look at him. Alistair stared resolutely at the warlock, his eyes bleak even as the rest of his expression was blank. He could feel his resolve to withstand any reaction he might have but that just further irritated Merlin. He couldn't stand to look into those teal eyes right now. Not now, not when he desperately wanted to hurt that man. He squirmed, trying to put some distance between them. He needed to get off the horse, needed to get away from him. Surprise filled him when Alistair didn't restrain him but instead released him. He nearly fell off the horse in his haste and then he stiffened as Alistair caught him. Silently, the Crown Prince offered his help. Stiffly, Merlin accepted it. There was no other way; he would fall if he didn't. He didn't like that his body naturally relaxed, allowing Alistair to set him down on the ground with ease. He couldn't seem to put up any resistance and that bothered him. He should hate him, should hate both of them. How could they do that to a child? Yet he couldn't and he didn't want to dwell on the whys behind it. All he wanted was to be angry right now and he was plenty angry with both of them.

He stumbled when he tried to walk. He stiffened for a moment, sure Alistair was going to swing down from his horse and try to help him walk. Instead, the Crown Prince urged his horse forward. The stallion walked around the warlock before he forced it into a canter. To his surprise, the horse and it's prince rode away, disappearing toward the stables. _So much for being able to handle any reaction from me._ Merlin thought peckishly. It was a completely unfair thought, especially since he was still upset at him. Sebastian looked torn, his head swiveling back and forth between where his brother had gone and Merlin. "I'm really sorry, Merlin. It was my decision; please don't be angry with Ali. He—we both tried everything to make it easier for Aiden." Then he urged his horse forward, following the dappled stallion's wake, calling "Alistair, wait!"

That left him alone with Gwaine. The former knight swung off his horse and came to stand beside Merlin. Immediately, the animal was forgotten. Even though evening was falling, the sun getting ready to set, the area was still bustling with activity. A servant would be along soon enough to check on the horse. He couldn't concentrate on that though. He honestly didn't give a damn about the horse. His mind was racing, flitting everywhere, trying to take everything in at once. Anything, everything, all of it just so he wouldn't focus on what he had to know, what he had to find out. Aiden, he had to see his apprentice, he had to find him. Gwaine reached out a hand and steadied him. He hadn't even realized he'd been swaying but apparently, he had. He would have flushed in embarrassment if a bone-weary tiredness hadn't overtaken him. It wasn't just the strain of his magic and the sickness that still lingered. It was a tiredness from life, from what he was experiencing. He hadn't felt this since he left Camelot, but apparently even Mercia couldn't always be his safe haven. He knew that, logically, but it still came as a shock.

"Come on, Merlin." Gwaine soothed, talking to him like he was a skittish animal. Right now, that was an apt description for how he felt.

"I, I need to see him." Merlin sighed, leaning into the former knight. He needed his strength, need him to keep him standing. He didn't know how he would do this without Gwaine by his side. For a moment, a different face flashed in his mind. He would have relied on Alistair, however begrudgingly, if the knight hadn't wormed his way into this trip. He physically shook the thought from his head. No, no. He didn't want anything to do with the Crown Prince, with either Prince. He was beginning to regret his decision to come back with them. Perhaps he should have stayed with Arthur—no. No, he couldn't do that, not until Arthur was willing to change his mind about magic. And besides, despite his frantic tone, which Merlin had heard but pretended to be unaware of, the King hadn't mentioned anything about lifting his banishment or allowing magic. Who was he, without his magic? Could he live without it? But then, he'd never have to make that choice so it wasn't really something he needed to worry about—right? He felt so lost, so unsteady right now. He felt Gwaine leading him further into the citadel. "So?"

"So?" Merlin looked up in confusion.

"Where are we going? I know zilch about this place. You're going to have to lead the way, mate."

Merlin nodded absently. He'd forgotten that. He paused, stopping in his tracks. He felt eyes on him. He casually scanned the area, as if deciding which way to go, but really looking for the source of the feeling. Seeing nothing, he shook it off. He didn't notice the figure just to his left and behind him, cloaked, shifting back into the shadows of a building. He gestured in the direction he wanted to go and began leading Gwaine as the knight helped him along. Sensing his unease, the former Camelot forsworn chattered, trying to keep his thoughts light and off his fears and worries. Merlin listened in companionable silence, enjoying the distraction.

* * *

Arthur was unhappy. He let said unhappiness be known by all he encountered by showing a sullen attitude and snapping at the littlest things. Gwen, however, was not having it. She'd dealt with his anger, his frustration, way too long these long months that Merlin had been gone. She wanted her husband back; she wanted to be happy again. She sat in front of her bureau, combing her hair and trying to ignore his rising ire. As he prowled his room three days after he returned, she finally snapped. "Arthur, this is _quite enough!_"

He whirled on her, eyes snapping with dangerous anger, and opened his mouth to make a sharp retort. She beat him to it, standing. "I mean it, Arthur! That's enough! You need to quit sulking like a child. Merlin's _gone_. And don't you dare snap at me because I said his name! In case you forgot, he was once my friend too! Gods knows I treated him poorly, turning my back on him simply because you claimed he hurt you. Well, you did worse, Arthur! You took him away from me, from Camelot. You hurt _us!_ You hurt me, the knights, Gaius, his friends, and even yourself, all because of a silly little thing like magic! And yes, it is quite silly. And goodness knows how you hurt Merlin." Tears sprung up in her eyes as she remembered that one, horrible moment when she'd begun to hate Merlin. Oh, how could she be so blind?

"What's wrong with Merlin having magic, Arthur? Sweet, kind, gentle Merlin!" She choked slightly on the words but straightened her shoulders, strengthening her resolve. "Merlin, who would never hurt anyone! He was your best friend, Arthur, whatever you may say to the contrary. Your best friend, and you banished him. And what did he ever do, really? You say you caught him doing magic, but was it so wrong, so evil? Did he do something to hurt you? To hurt someone we know? What did he do Arthur? You wouldn't even tell me that! I think I deserve to know. You took away my friend, your own best friend, from us. I'd like to know why."

Arthur stared at her in shock. It was the first time Gwen had put her foot down in regards to the situation, the first time he'd been really called into question about the events that led up to this. Tristan had challenged him about his views on magic, had demanded to know why he should follow the rules regarding Merlin's name, but that was it. Gwaine had demanded that he be allowed to look for Merlin, had lashed out at his King for banishing his best friend, but never asked why. Nobody had. They had all been too afraid to hear the reason. What if they were wrong and Merlin really _had_ been doing something evil? Nobody wanted to believe it but no one could think of a reason why Arthur would banish Merlin, why he would send him away, for simple magic. And now Gwen was questioning it, tired of wondering, of trying to think of what he could have done to deserve his fate. Arthur paused, his mind slowly turning back to that day, the fateful day when he first discovered Merlin had magic. His shoulders slumped and all the anger, the bluster, left him, replaced by sad frustration and self-reproach.

"No… No, Gwen, what he did wasn't… wasn't _evil._" Arthur admitted for the first time. Not just out loud but to himself as well. He'd been trying to hold back that revelation but it was as by saying it, he unleashed the pent up emotions even he had been unwilling to understand. He sank heavily on the bed, sitting across from her. "It wasn't evil. It was just so, so _big._ He summoned a dragon, Gwen. A dragon! I thought I knew everything about him, everything about Merlin. Then, suddenly, he's controlling dragons and doing magic and I, I lost it. I didn't know what to do, how to react. I was scared. No, not scared of Merlin." He shook his head.

"I was scared I was going to be betrayed. I suddenly didn't know the man before me. It was like Morgana all over again. I didn't know anything and that scared me, terrified me. I didn't know what to expect from him and I kept wondering how he could betray me like this. I didn't try to understand. I didn't want to. I just wanted to be hurt and angry and lash out, but I couldn't. I couldn't think about it, couldn't deal with it, not just then. I was in the midst of a war. I swore to myself that if he showed of betraying be further, I would strike him down. But he didn't. He helped me, Gwen. He helped win the war. He gave me back my confidence and he told me he believed in me. I was even more confused, I didn't know what to think or how to react."

He combed a hand through his hair and then suddenly bowed his head, pulling fiercely on the blond roots. "All my life, _all my life,_ my father told me how evil magic was, how it wanted to destroy all that was good in this world. And I believed him. _I believed him._ Suddenly, I was faced with Merlin, _Merlin_, and everything in my world was threatening to tumble down around me. Nothing I thought I knew seemed right anymore. If I couldn't trust what my father told me, the one fact that I'd known to be true my whole life, what could I trust? What could I believe in? Magic was evil, it had to be, because if magic isn't evil, then what the hell have I been doing?"

He suddenly stood and began pacing in earnest. "What the hell have I been doing, Gwen? I killed magic users! I hunted down druids, sorcerers, anyone with even the barest hint of magic! I killed them! **_I_** did! For years, I've been doing it, never questioned it, just knew what I was doing was right! It was the right thing to do, because my father told me so. And suddenly, suddenly I'm staring into Merlin's face and I wondering how many I killed who were just like him. I wondering how many innocent lives I killed on the word of my father who didn't deserve to die. I'm wondering how many were like Merlin, how many had his spunk or his kindness, how many wanted to help and serve like he did. I'm wondering what the hell I've done because I'm contemplating the fact that they might have been innocent!"

And he suddenly stopped pacing and his shoulders hunched as he drew in on himself. "I couldn't handle it. I couldn't deal with it. I wasn't sure how I'd live with myself if it were really the case. So I ran away. _I ran away from the truth._ It was easier to blame Merlin. It was so much easier to pretend I didn't see what I was doing was wrong and claim he'd betrayed me, to say it was all his fault. Because really, it seemed like it was. After all, if I hadn't caught him doing magic, I wouldn't be questioning everything I knew, even who I am. Because if my father lied to me about magic users, it's damn well possible he lied to me about the Great Purge. And if he lied about that, then that woman… Then maybe she really was my mother and she really was telling me the truth. Maybe my birth did cause all this, maybe _I'm_ the one at fault. Was my birth, my very existence, the thing that had torn this kingdom apart and then put it together in a crooked and slightly broken way? I didn't know and I didn't want to know! I just wanted to run away and blaming Merlin was the easiest way. So I did."

He sighed and his shoulder shook. He wasn't crying, kings didn't cry, and the King of Camelot definitely didn't cry. He wasn't crying but he couldn't seem to breathe properly and there was a strange wetness blurring his vision and covering his face. But he wasn't crying.

"Except. Except it didn't work. _It didn't work._ I blamed him and banished him and tried to put everything behind me but it _didn't work_. The questions still haunted me. How many people had I killed that deserved to live, that had done nothing wrong except having magic? I would think that as I went over the boarder agreements. Why had Merlin turned to magic, why did he choose it? Those thoughts haunted me while I slept, when I woke. I couldn't stop thinking about it. And it, it doesn't seem right to ask Gaius, Gwen. I feel like the answer should come from Merlin, that I should hear it from him, but all these months he's been missing. I tried searching for him, I sent the knights looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. And damn it all, I missed him! He betrayed me; he ripped out my heart and spat on it by using magic, but I still miss him! I miss my best friend and I don't know what to do about it because now he's in Mercia."

Gwen stared at him, at the broken Arthur before her. She couldn't fathom what he'd just told her. He'd run away? Him? He was Arthur Pendragon, he didn't run away from anything, not even the truth! And yet he had, he'd left Merlin to hang out to dry simply so he wouldn't have to face the truth. But hearing the truth of what he believed, that his existence was the reason for the deaths of thousands of innocent people, made her heart ache. She didn't even pause to consider if there was any truth behind the words. It didn't matter. She went to her husband, kneeled before him, and ran her hands through his hair. He might have played the coward in the past, might have run away from the truth, but he'd regretted it. There would be time to scold him for it later, when he wasn't a broken man. There would be time to yell at him for using Merlin as a scapegoat for the unfortunate truths of his life later, but not now. Now, she had to coax him back to the man he once was. "Hey. Hey. That means you've found him though, right? You've found Merlin. You hadn't told me that, Arthur. Isn't that good news?"

He shook his head and leaned it against her forehead. She soothed him as best as she could while he took a few deep breaths. He kept his eyes closed as he spoke. "Merlin's been living in Mercia this whole time. They lied to me. When I sent representatives to Mercia, they told me they had no clue who Merlin was. They said they didn't know him."

"Well, perhaps that was possible. Perhaps they simply didn't realize—" Gwen began, always striving to see the best in people.

"He knew the princes! He knew them, he called one of them by a nickname!" Arthur snapped and his shoulders shook. His whole body radiated the pain his heart was feeling. His best friend had only been a kingdom away this whole time. All this time, he'd secretly feared he was dead or worse. On one of the trails they'd followed, tracking Merlin was the presence of slavers. What if they had set upon him? Merlin was an innocent, no matter how Arthur might have proclaimed his innocent. He didn't know how read people, to understand the complex dangers they presented. What if they'd lured him in? Or what if they terrorized him in a chase? For weeks, the nightmares had plagued him when he imagined what might have happened to the wayward sorcerer. And instead, he was safe in Mercia, living it up with a different prince. He'd been easily replaced.

"Arthur, what happened? How did you find Merlin?"

He gave a broken laugh as he remembered. "I didn't. He found us. He found us and he defended us from the sorcerer." Slowly, he began to recount the tale to her, trying to squish the small blossom of hope in his chest. Perhaps, since he'd come for him, Merlin hadn't replaced him after all. Perhaps, in his own way, he still mattered to him. After all, hadn't he said he was Arthur's protector? No matter how ridiculous it was that he would need a skinny welp to be his champion; if it meant he'd get Merlin back, he'd take it.

N¡√43M ~ MERLIN

Merlin collapsed in his bed, exhausted. He'd checked on Aiden, who was doing well. His apprentice apologized profusely to him, hugging his waist and crying, when he first saw him. After he calmed the boy down—and shut up Gwaine, who wouldn't stop laughing over 'Mister Merlin'—he'd managed to have a conversation with the boy about what happened. The story he'd heard from the princes wasn't far off, it seemed. Aiden, upon hearing that his master was sick, rushed to the physician's wing. He'd stayed near by, fretting and helping the physician when he could. When the compounds were finally discovered that had made him sick, along with a powerful enchantment, he'd broken down crying and in front of two guards confessed that he'd given Merlin the vial that contained the poison. Merlin understood now, why they had to punish him. He hadn't confessed to the princes, but to the guards. They'd had to act or seem weak. He understood that—but he still couldn't easily forgive them for hurting his apprentice. Aiden didn't complain about his punishment but Merlin had seen the faded red welts on his back. He'd been reaching for something on a high shelf and his shirt drew up a bit, revealing the not quite healed yet wounds. He couldn't forgive that such a young boy had been brutalized in such a way.

He was angry with them; he could admit that. He was angry with Alistair and Sebastian. He tried rationalizing with his emotions but he couldn't. He was angry. Aiden was his apprentice, under his care. He felt betrayed that he'd been punished in such a way, so brutally, without his permission. Of course, he knew that they didn't _need_ his permission. They were princes, they had authority over them both, but he still felt they should have at least asked for his permission or at least dealt out a softer punishment. He stopped going to visit them in the Castle. He refused to take them their meals and he even refused to go out on patrols with them around the lower town. It wasn't a smart move, challenging the princes when he'd just been brought in as one of their countrymen, one of their citizens, but they didn't push his decision. They accepted it; although Sebastian complained loudly about the _'unfair treatment'_ they were receiving.

Alistair never raised a single complaint, however, and somehow that just made it worse. Merlin _wanted_ to lash out at him but he couldn't; something held him back from doing just that. Somehow, he knew if he could just lash out at the Crown Prince, if he could just get out this anger burning in his chest, things between them would gradually get better. When Alistair took to avoiding him, though… Well, there was no way for him to resolve his feelings. With no other recourse for his confused anger, he turned to the one person he was sure would understand—he turned to Gwaine. It would take some time getting used to having Gwaine around as well. His best friend didn't stray far from his side and often would find an excuse to touch him two or three times a day, confirming his presence. The way he would sometimes catch the brunette staring at him was also a bit disconcerting, as if he was worried that he might suddenly disappear.

After a week, Merlin had at least managed to get into some semblance of a routine. Aiden gladly picked up his magic lessons, although Merlin was still recovering. He could only give him small demonstrations and Aiden had to learn to do spells mostly on his own. Before, Merlin had let his magic curl around the young boy, mixing with his magic so he could feel what he was supposed to do. Now he simply showed him how and Aiden had to figure out how to do the rest from that. Gwaine found watching the lessons fascinating, glad to finally see this other side of Merlin, one previously denied of him. The only thing that off set everything was now the strangled tension between Merlin and the princes, especially Alistair. Sebastian let Merlin's anger roll off him like a wave and Merlin found it impossible to deal with him, but equally as impossible to stay angry at him. It was Alistair that the problem came; for some reason, Merlin's anger seemed to hit him especially hard. Merlin was often an open book when he was angry, his feelings leaking into his expression and his speech. This caused Alistair to stiffen around him, subtly turning away and even putting some distance between them. The warlock wanted to get a reaction out of him, to find some way to resolve this problem, but that was impossible when the prince was doing his best to dodge the warlock. Merlin took to complaining about him to Gwaine, trying to resolve the problem with his pent up feeling through logic. It didn't work very well and he would often work himself up into an impassioned speech.

"It's almost like you were with Arthur," Gwaine commented absently as he examined a sword outside the blacksmith's in the lower town. When silence greeted the statement, he glanced at Merlin and silently began cursing himself when he felt Merlin instantly stiffen at the mention of his former best friend and king.

"What's is?" Merlin demanded with a slight steel tone.

Gwaine continued his train of thought, glancing away from the blacksmith, his eyes landing on the gate. "The way you are with Alistair, it's sort of similar. It's not exactly the same but you seem to expect so much from him. It's like, you see this grand future for him and if he does anything that could take away from that, you get upset over it. You're a bit like you were with Arthur when you're with Alistair. A bit more intense but it's a similar attitude. I think that's why you're having trouble forgiving him." Five strangers were entering the citadel just as twilight began to fall. They kept their cloaks up, hoods covering their faces. They didn't seem to be paying any mind to anyone, although one stumbled as they neared them. Merlin instinctively reached out, steadying the stranger.

"Whoa there. Careful now." Merlin gave one of his signature smiles as he felt the man under the cloak stiffen at his touch. The smile did what he hoped and the man relaxed. "Are you here visiting someone? Perhaps I could direct you."

The man shook his head as Gwaine laughed. The hooded figure tilted his head as Merlin frowned at Gwaine, forgetting he still had a hold on the stranger. "What's so funny, Gwaine?"

"You! You and your blasted need to help every fallen puppy that lands in your path."

"Oh shut up."

The former knight grinned impishly at Merlin. "Make me."

"Quit being such an idiot."

"No, seriously Merlin. Make me. I want to see if you could, with your magic." Gwaine pushed.

Merlin rolled his eyes, ignoring how the stranger stiffened again at the mention of magic. "I've told you a dozen times Gwaine, magic isn't a play thing. It's serious."

"And yet you still use it to do chores and make the kids in the square giggle."

The warlock pouted. "That's different."

"How so?"

"It's…" Merlin floundered for the words and Gwaine's attention returned to the stranger that the warlock was still holding steady. His hood had darted back and forth between them, closely following their conversation. He'd stiffened at the mention of magic but he was starting to relax again. However, now his hood was tilted down, no doubt looking at the hand still on his arm. "Okay, so it's not completely different but I'm still not going to use magic on you so you can get off." A raised eyebrow and Merlin let out an explosive sigh that had Gwaine laughing. "Not like that! You _know_ what I mean! Quit being such a horse's arse."

Gwaine smiled, mirth still in his eyes. "You might want to release him now." He gestured with his head to the stranger. His hood came up and Gwaine finally caught a glimpse of the shaded features underneath. He instantly recognized them but he made no sign that anything was different. The figure must have read the recognition in his eyes, however, and quickly gave Merlin a darted glance, as if to reassure himself that he hadn't been discovered.

Merlin blinked, not getting it for a minute. Then he looked down at his hand and jerked it back as if it had been burned. His cheeks actually flushed red in embarrassment. "Sorry! How rude of me. So, um, if you're looking for a place to stay, there's one up the road. The tavern at the end of the road, The Broken Quill, it has rooms above it you can stay in."

The man nodded in thanks. Merlin nodded back and then turned to Gwaine, who was laughing at him. He smacked his arm, trying to look angry. "Oh shut up, you! You're no help!"

"I told you to let go, didn't I?"

"You're incorrigible."

"You know you love it, Merlin." Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, he led the warlock away. He didn't look back once, despite having guessed who the cloaked men were immediately.

* * *

_"Sire,"_ one of the cloaked men approached the hooded man Merlin helped.

Piercing blue eyes peered out from under the faded crimson cloak, staring after the warlock with a strange intensity. _"Leon, go procure us some rooms at the tavern Merlin mentioned. I have a meeting to attend with the Prince of Mercia."_

_"Yes, Sire."_ Leon replied, adjusting his faded teal cloak. He beckoned Elyan, in a faded orange cloak, and Tristan in a faded purple, to him. He had to smack Percival's arm to get his attention. The large man kept readjusting his faded black cloak, which was extremely short on him. The knight didn't so much as grunt but still gave Leon his attention. The four knights headed off, intent on searching for rooms for themselves and their king. Arthur stared after Merlin and Gwaine, his thoughts still going over his plan. He had to do this, he reminded himself again. This was the only way, there was no other. His plan was flawless and in the end, Merlin wouldn't stand a chance against it. He nodded absently, feeling a sinking feeling in his chest. He ignored it, turning and making his way through the crowded streets to the castle.


End file.
